Irregular Cameos
by Ulura
Summary: Sequel to Baker Street Irregulars. Follow the adventures of Sherlock, John and the Irregulars though their entire lives, written as a series of one-shots, two-shots and AU's. A mix of genres and ratings at a multitude of different lengths. Be prepared for laughing and for tears. Reuploaded as it wasn't working.
1. Chapter 1: Natty's Birthday

**A small explanation of how this will work, because I will be experimenting with AU's along the line I will write the information at the beginning of each story. Such as how old the characters are at the are at the time, I wont bother with the ages of the adults unless it's really important. If there is an AU I will put it at the beginning, if not, just the ages.**

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**Natty - 10**

Natty was excited; it was her birthday next week which meant she was going to get gifts and cake! She loved her birthday, at least she always had since she started living with Sherlock, before they were nothing to look forward to, the streets don't care if it's your birthday or not.

Last year John had given her a book all about the unsolved crimes on England. Her father had actually been jealous, so John ended up buying one for him as well. Natty laughed at the memory.

"Natty are you even paying attention?" Sherlock sighed bringing her back to reality.

Sherlock had been teaching her about the different kinds of fingerprints and how to recognise them without a computer.

"Sorry Dad." She muttered.

"Your birthday is still six days away, why get so hyped up now. It's interfering with your work." Sherlock chastised.

"Sherlock, kids get excited about their birthdays." John laughed from the living room where he was updating his blog, "You can't stop it."

"I can try." He sighed.

Natty giggled.

"Since we are on the subject what do you want for your birthday?" Sherlock asked casually, turning back to the microscope on the table. Natty tilted her head, smiling in thought.

"Can we get a puppy?" She asked.

"You already have Gladstone." Sherlock replied, still focusing on his slide.

"Yeah, but I want a cute fluffy one." Natty replied, "Or one of those new Princess Barbie Dolls."

Sherlock stared at her with his mouth slightly agape, oh dear she must of broken him. Actually John had the same expression on his face. Natty burst into laughter.

"I'm just messing with you Daddy," She giggled before replying seriously, "I want a benchmade model 42 balisong butterfly knife."

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief.

"Natty you had me worried!" he scolded.

Natty cackled like a maniac.

…

As expected Natty's birthday was a lot of fun, Lestrade even joined the group for a game of cross London hide and seek which ended with Joe tackling their father so hard they were both seeing stars.

She got a multitude of books, games and science equipment from her brothers and sisters, John gave her some music and Lestrade gave her a fake Scotland Yard ID. That last one would come in handy one day. Finally Sherlock handed her a small black box, which was unwrapped, Natty clicked it open to find two balisong knives nestled in the foam.

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!" She squealed squeezing all the air out of his lungs. Sherlock chuckled as she ran back to the little box and flicked one of the knives out and began to twist and turn it like a nun chuck.

"Yep, that's an appropriate gift for a ten year old." Lestrade mused aloud, though he didn't really mean any offence.

"Just don't slice your fingers off Natty." John warned.

"I know what I'm doing." She sighed, "Watch this!"

"She spun the two knives around with speed and precision, she could tell her dad was impressed.

"Oh and one other thing." Sherlock continued reaching behind his chair and bringing out another box, this one was wrapped in florescent pink paper. Natty could just imagine her father buying the paper in his dark outfit, how odd he must have looked.

"Yes, I did get quite a few looks." Sherlock replied, seemingly deducing her thoughts, "Now open it."

Natty ripped the paper off with enthusiasm only to freeze when the paper finally came off. The room burst into laughter, Mason actually fell on the floor trying to breath. John was doing his best not to laugh, covering his grin with his hand but the sight of Sherlock chuckling broke his resolve and he was leaning on his knees trying to catch his breath.

"Well, you did ask for it." Sherlock grinned evilly.

Natty turned an impressive shade of red as she looked down at the object in her hand. The doll was blonde, just like her, but decked out in a huge pink ball gown, coated in jewels and sequins. She wore a shining gold tiara on her head. A bloody barbie doll.


	2. Chapter 2: Mira's Flu

AU: In which Scotland Yard don't know about the Irregulars or Mira yet but John does. Based before the Irregulars moved in to 222.

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**Marie - 6 **

"Your fever is pretty bad, it's a good thing you came over." John sighed taking the thermometer from Mira's mouth.

She'd walked in a short while ago saying she felt terrible and Baker street was closer than her house, John quickly diagnosed her with the flu and Sherlock offered his bed for the night. He was going to be up all night experimenting anyway, it was only logical she stay instead of heading back out into the cold.

"Thanks John." She sighed snuggling deeper under the blankets, "Can you tell Sherlock...the kids need a food re-stock tomorrow? I'll...I'll go if he needs me too I know how busy he gets."

"You aren't leaving this bed for at least 24 hours." John assured her, "If push comes to shove, I'll go."

She smiled, nestled under the covers with her eyes brightened by the fever he reminded her a lot of an over sized child.

"I'll continue my work then." Sherlock announced from his place at the end of the bed, promptly flicking through his case documents and cross comparing them with his research notes to see if the experiments were fruitful. He'd spent the entire day working on them, he was still in his pajamas and dressing gown.

"Sherlock, you can do that in the living room, let her sleep." John ordered.

"I don't mind." Mira laughed, "I won' be awake for long."

John sighed and reluctantly headed back to the living room to update his blog about the case. He knew Sherlock wanted to keep an eye on her for a bit, he'd come out in a minute or so. He had just finished the update when he heard the door open and several pair of feet echo up the hall. Lestrade stepped into the flat along with Dimmock and Donovan, the latter was holding Marie by the arm.

"This kid was caught riffling through dumpsters." Lestrade informed the doctor, "She says her parents are here. Client's of yours?"

"Uh well no." John rubbed the back of his neck.

"Little liar, probably reads your blog, John." Dimmock sighed.

"No she isn't lying." Sherlock cut in as he emerged from his bedroom, dressing gown billowing out behind him.

"Daddy!" Marie smiled, "Can you tell this woman to let go of me?"

Sally let go straight away, though John suspected it was the shock more than the child's order.

"What have I told you about sneaking around the city at night?" Sherlock scolded, ignoring the three gaping officers, "You could get-"

"Hurt, or lost, or kidnapped." Marie finished for him hanging her head, "I know..."

"Go upstairs and head to bed." Sherlock ordered, "You should of been there hours ago, do your siblings know where you are?"

"Yeah, I told them." Marie replied, Sherlock gave an affirmative nod. Marie headed up to John's room, guess he was on the couch.

"You have a daughter?" Lestrade gaped.

"Daughters." Sherlock corrected, "And sons. Fourteen all up."

"What!" Donovan gaped, "No way. Your just taking the micky out of us, I bet she's John's niece or something, after all, kids need a mother and what loon would be mad enough to marry him?"

"Sherlock...?"

Mira appeared leaning lightly against the door frame in her pajamas, one had curled into a fist that was rubbing her eyes. She looked around the room at all the new faces hazily.

"Wha's going on?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Mira, John told you not to get out of bed for at least 24 hours." Sherlock reprimanded softly, "Go back to sleep."

"Did I hear Marie?" She asked, ignoring Sherlock.

"Yes. She's here." John replied, Mira smiled.

"Back to bed." Sherlock repeated giving her a soft push toward the door.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going."

"But...that's Sherlock's room." Lestrade spluttered, "Why is she going to Sherlock's room!"

"How am I supposed to sleep with all this talking going on?" Marie complained appearing in the doorway.

"Sorry Marie." John chuckled, "The officers were just shocked to see your mother is all."

"She's here?" Marie smiled, "Can I go-"

"No, your mother is sick." John interrupted, "Go to bed, you can see her in the morning."

"Dad would let me see her." Marie grumbled.

"Your dad lets you play with acid, doesn't make it right." John sighed, pushing Marie lightly out the door.

"Any reason why they are still here?" Sherlock asked, coming back out of his room.

"We um..." Donovan started.

"If you do not have a case for me make yourselves sparse." Sherlock snapped, "I can only take so much stupid at once."

**I wrote this ages ago! Like back when I was writing "The Irregulars" ages ago! **

**Make sure to check out my tumblr blog for sneak peaks and spoilers into this story!**

** ulurasreality . tumblr **


	3. Chapter 3: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

**Nina - 8**

**Mason - 11**

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"Nina I really don't think you should be playing with Uncle John's gun..." Mason muttered.

"You're just nervous, you're always nervous." Nina chided, spinning the gun around on her finger, "I've used Uncle John's gun loads of times before."

"Yeah but only with dad or John around. You know we're not supposed to touch it when he's not around." Mason argued as he nervously stood by the fireplace.

Their father and Uncle were off at Scotland Yard giving statements for the case they had been on last night. Nina and Mason were the only ones in the two Baker Street homes at the moment, they promised to stay behind today to keep an eye on their fathers latest experiment. They didn't really understand much of it, only that if it started to foam they were to add the yellow liquid in the canister next to the Bunsen burner.

"They were on a case last night, it could have bullets in it." Mason pointed out.

"Nah, I was using it two days ago, full of blanks then." Nina shrugged, she'd always had a fascination with guns, not in the creepy way, just a general fascination of how they worked.

"Watch this!" She grinned, flipping the gun in the air and holding out her hand ready to catch it.

"Could you at least turn of the saft-"

BANG!

Mason had been about to tell her to switch the safety on if she insisted on throwing the gun around like a toy when the weapon landed in Nina's hand and she gripped with without thinking. It fired.

It was not full of blanks.

"You shot me!" Mason cried clutching his shoulder.

The bullet had ripped right through his left shoulder sending the boy to his knees with a yell.

"I'm sorry!" Nina yelled dropping the gun and racing over to where her brother was applying pressure to his shoulder.

"Call...an ambulance." Mason gasped as he slumped to the floor trying to hold back tears and failing miserably.

"Right uh, I don't think I've ever seen you cry." Nina replied nervously, racing around the room looking for their uncle's mobile.

"Of course I'm crying...there is a hole in my shoulder!" Mason yelled, pulling himself up to lean against the wall.

Finally Nina found John's mobile sitting behind the union jack pillow on he couch. Thank God he had forgotten it today!

"Hello emergency services." Came the voice of a woman on the phone, "How may I help you?"

"My brother, he's been shot." Nina reported, her father always told her to say as much as possible as quickly as she could in an emergency. She left out the part where she was the one who actually did the shooting. She didn't need to know that.

"In the shoulder," She added quickly before she could speak up, "221b Baker street. I think he's going into shock now. Please hurry."

Nina promptly hung up, she didn't need some air head trying to tell her what to do. Instead she ran over to her brother and applied pressure to the wound which was bleeding profusely.

"I'm so sorry!" Nina insisted, "I'm so so so sorry!"

"Told you...it was a bad idea..." Mason coughed.

"Just remember what dad told us about bullet wounds, you have to stay awake okay?" Nina's voice began to tremble.

What if he bled out? What if he died? She would of killed her brother!

"I'm...trying..."

...

"Absolutely ridiculous!" Sherlock ranted, "This is London, how is it there haven't been any cabs?"

"It must be a busy day in the inner city Sherlock don't sweat it." John shrugged, he was actually enjoying the walk, "It's only a half hour walk from the station anyway."

"It's still utterly preposterous." Sherlock grumbled.

"Come on now, we're only one street away now anyways."

Sherlock huffed; at least he had his experiment to look forward to, hopefully Nina and Mason kept an eye on it. He would be very much put out if they let it boil over. He was about to explain to John the odds of them being unable to get a cab in such a busy city when they turned the corner into Baker Street and froze.

There was an ambulance outside 221b, from the corner the two men were able to make out a small figure being worked on inside the veheicle.

Sherlock's brain ran at a million miles an hour, unlike his feet, which were stubbornly slow. He was vaguely aware of John running after him but he was more focused on trying to deduce what had happened. Had they touched his chemicals again? Hadn't he told them not to touch the experiment without gloves? He was sure he had, but they could of forgotten. Or one of the two could of fallen from the stair case, it was seventeen stairs high and made of hardwood, defiantly a high chance of injury if one of the younger children tripped.

He ignored the paramedic who was trying to block his way as the ambulance got ready to leave, he focused on the figure on the gurney.

"Mason!" he yelled, taking in the bloody shoulder.

"That's his son, let us through!" John yelled sounding frustrated.

Somewhere between the yelling and pushing they had closed the doors and John and Sherlock were squeezed inside the back on either side of the boy. Sherlock's eyes flew over the various monitors and Mason's arm, deducing that if they got to the hospital within the next half an hour he would be fine.

It was only after Mason was being treated in the A&E that Sherlock finally noticed that Nina had not been with them. As predicted Mason spent a few hours in surgery, which Sherlock spent pacing, before being moved into a private room. Sherlock suspected Mycroft's influence there but he didn't care.

When Sherlock was finally told he could go and see him he ranted and raved then entire way there, only this time John didn't complain.

"I'm his guardian for goodness sakes, I should have been allowed in earlier!"

"You can say father you know." John sighed as they neared the room.

Mason smiled when they entered, he had a bandage wrapped around his torso securing the bandages around his wounded shoulder. Aside from being particularly pale he seemed fine.

"How do you feel?" Sherlock asked taking the seat by the bed.

"Fine now, I figure I should be allowed home in a few days since Uncle John's a doctor." Mason smiled, "Dad did you know the chief surgeon is cheating on his wife with the head nurse?"

Sherlock chuckled.

"You're lucky the bullet was closer to your arm and not your chest or you'd of been in trouble." John cut in, "You will have a scar though."

"Like yours?" Mason replied.

"Not quiet as bad." John smiled as he reviewed the chart, "Yours was close range but the bullet was heading upwards slightly it didn't hit any vital organs or bone, just muscle."

"Good." Sherlock nodded before turning serious, "Mason, how did this happen, who shot you and where is Nina? I assume she is not in danger or you would of said something by now, meaning she was either out at the time you were injured or ran away."

Mason went quiet and fiddled his fingers in his lap. Interesting.

"Actually…Nina phoned the ambulance and stayed with me till they loaded me up, I dunno where she went after that." Mason said.

"Who shot you?" John asked again, even he could tell the boy was hiding something.

"Nina…" Mason replied.

Sherlock felt his jaw slacken a little. Nina shot Mason?

"It was an accident!" Mason cried, "She was playing with John's gun and I told her to be careful but she said she knew what she was doing and then it went off and she thought it was fully of blanks but it wasn't!"

The long spiel left the boy panting for breath.

"I've told her a thousand times not to play with my gun!" John cried, "Even if it IS full of blanks!"

Sherlock pushed his fingers together under his chin. Obviously Nina was worried about seriously injuring her brother and once she knew he was in good hands decided to run and hide out of fear of what he would say. The question is where would Nina hide, he already went through this with Clara he didn't want another runaway on his hands.

"You'd better go find her dad." Mason spoke up, "I'm fine, I'm not angry at her."

Sherlock nodded, "John will stay with you."

"Come on mate, we'll compare scares." John joked as Sherlock left the room.

Thinking carefully Sherlock narrowed down the list of places where Nina was likely to be hiding. By the time he'd hailed a cab he knew exactly where to go.

…

He hardly ever came to The Irregular Hotel anymore since the children had moved to Baker Street, it had begun to gather dust. Not being patient enough to pick the lock the tall man clambered up the wall and slipped in through the first floor window. He stayed still and listened for a few moments before, sure enough, the sounds of sniffing reached his ears. He hated it when they cried; he was so awkward when it came to comfort.

He followed the sound until he found her, curled up in a ball sitting on a cloth covered couch by a window in a spare room.

"You shouldn't run off like that." He said steadily, deep voice breaking the near silence of the room instantly and making Nina jump.

"Dad…I…Is Mason okay?" She said finally, whipping her face in an effort to stay calm.

"He will be fine in a few days, the wound will scare but it could have been much worse." Sherlock replied, still practically emotionless.

"I'm really really so very sorry Dad." She mumbled looking at her shoes, "I know I'm not supposed to play with John's gun."

"Then why did you do it?" Sherlock asked seriously, now standing in front of her.

"I don't know, it's interesting and I though it was empty. I didn't think to check."

"That's right. You didn't think." Sherlock scolded, Nina flinched.

"I teach you to observe, to think every action through perfectly." Sherlock continued, "You need to be more careful! I thought I taught you better than that."

"I know." Nina whispered on the verge of tears again.

Sherlock sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nina you could of really hurt somebody today. If things had been different, you might of lost a brother." Sherlock breathed.

"I...I'm sorry." Nina sobbed.

"You're just a child, I can't expect you not to make mistakes." Sherlock shook his head and sat down next to her on the couch, "But you have to promise me you will be more careful."

"I do! I promise I will!" Nina replied straight away, despite the tears there was determination in her eyes.

Sherlock smiled lightly.

"Come on then, let's go home."

* * *

**Wow this is a long chapter! I was going to split it in two but decided I needed a longer one to make up for the two shorter ones before this. **

**I think I will write profiles on each of the Irregulars and once this is finished I'll post them as a kind of epilogue. They will probably go on my Tumblr blog first though.**


	4. Chapter 4: AU: The Fall I

**AU: In which John was the one to fake his death for a year with the help of Mycroft and the kids take care of their distraught father for the year that follows. **

* * *

**Irregulars are the same age they were in The Irregulars**

It had been Mycroft's plan, John hated it with every molecule in his body but he knew it was the right thing to do. No matter how wrong it was. Getting Sherlock to leave the hospital and John behind was surprisingly easy. Mycroft had one of his people call in, stating Mrs. Hudson had been shot by one of the assassins who'd recently taken up residence at Baker Street. After his display of protectiveness with the Americans, Mycroft had know it would work, John stayed behind, lying and telling his friend he'd catch a different cab. They were too noticeable when they were together, they were still on the run after all.

Sherlock had run off, only later when he arrived and found Mrs. Hudson perfectly fine he'd realize it had been a trick. The rest of Mycroft's plan was simple, John would confront Moriarty and get as much information as possible, the mad man would be angry that Sherlock had not turned up, he'd let things slip. And he did, the snipers, the bomb in The Irregular's Hotel, everything. Unfortunately he then shot himself and John was left with the ultimatum that was meant for Sherlock.

Die or they die.

Fortunately Mycroft had planned for that too, everything was set up for John to fake his death. Once he was dead he could take down Moriarty's empire with the politicians help, there was just one catch. Sherlock would have to believe his performance. If Moriarty's empire didn't believe he was really dead things would go south quickly. Sighing John picked up his mobile and dialed the detectives number as he spied the man getting out a cab a little over a block away.

Usually John could never fool Sherlock with his acting but he had several factors on his side. From this distance Sherlock could see him but not study any facial cues or subtle movements to indicate deceit, plus John's own upset and pain at having to do this to his best friend helped make his voice crack and wavering convincingly.

"John, what's going on?" Sherlock asked as he made his way toward the hospital again.

"Stop walking! Go back the way you came." John replied seriously.

"What-"

"Just do as I say!" John insisted, "Please."

Sherlock backed up as he was told, as he did so John could see him stiffen when he spotted his friend standing on the edge of the roof.

"What...why are you up there?" Sherlock asked, he actually sounded nervous.

This bit was the worst, Mycroft had told him what he would have to say in order to convince Sherlock this was all real. It made John want to punch him in the face, then punch himself.

"I can't do this anymore Sherlock." He said simply, "How could you of lied to me all this time? You pretended you were some great hero when really you were pulling the strings."

"What? No! It's a lie." Sherlock argued, "You should know that! John don't be an idiot, of course I'm not a fake."

"Moriar-Brook showed me everything Sherlock." John sighed, "I've lost everything because of you, my job, my credibility and you made me your accomplice in all of this."

"John-"

"Goodbye Sherlock."

"What do you mean goodbye?" Sherlock exclaimed.

John tossed the phone to the side and took a deep breath, the van was waiting to cushion his fall. As he stepped off the building he heard sherlock scream his name, along with many other younger voices. Oh damn, he hadn't meant for the Irregulars to see this. As planned Sherlock and the kids missed him actually hitting the ground due to the small building blocking the way, ample time for John to land in the van and have it drive away while the body double was dumped on the ground.

He watched, hidden in the mattress filled van as Sherlock rushed over to his corpse, the Irregulars not far behind.

"I am sorry Sherlock..."

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**Part two will be about the Irregulars helping their father through the year without John. I know there wasn't much of them in this chapter but I needed to set the scene. **

**Another thing, loads of people voted yes for this story but I am not getting nearly as many reviews as I did in the last two stories. I am just wondering if the quality of my writing is still up to standard is all. I hope I'm not letting anybody down. **


	5. Chapter 5: AU: The Fall II

**AU: In which John was the one to fake his death for a year with the help of Mycroft and the kids take care of their distraught father for the year that follows. **

* * *

"JOHN!"

Sherlock started moving forward but was knocked aside by a cyclist, smacking his head against the sidewalk, he'd been so distracted he hadn't even heard the man coming. By the time he made it to where John hand landed by the base of the building there was a small crowd gathered round. Sherlock saw John's eyes open, staring and so very empty, surrounded by a morbid halo of blood and he looked away. Squeezing his eyes shut trying to deny what they were seeing.

"John..."

He became aware of several pairs of hands grabbing at him and fisting into is coat. He opened his eyes again to find that he had some how ended up crouched on the ground, the Irregulars were there all clinging to him. Some of the younger ones were in tears, Sherlock could feel his own eyes burning but did not allow the tears to fall. Not here. Though he doubted he'd be able to keep them back once he was alone.

"Sherlock what's going-oh christ!" Lestrade had arrived in his squad car, obviously had not been briefed and arrived just in time to see John's corpse being lifted onto a gurney and taken away.

After that Sherlock doesn't remember much, he remembers Lestrade trying to get him to explain what happened but what he said was lost. He vaguely remembers arriving home with the Irregulars not far behind and locking himself in his room while several of the older children tried to get him to come out.

He awoke some hours later, a quick look in his mirror revealed that he had cried himself to sleep embarrassingly enough. Quietly he opened the door and walked out into the lounge after composing himself, the kids were there. The youngest ones were asleep on various bits of furniture while the older ones stayed awake. Carlo raised his head as he spotted Sherlock and without a word flung himself at the detective and wrapped his arms around his middle.

Sherlock returned the gesture and within seconds Joe and Halie had joined the huddle, rousing the other children as they went and soon all of them were in one giant embrace. Sherlock found himself clinging to the children for dear life, for some reason he felt as if he let go he'd fall off the side of the earth, down into the deep nothing. It was hard to say who was giving the comfort and who was receiving it but all they knew was they needed each other.

...

In the weeks after John's death Sherlock had never felt more tempted to pick up his needle again. Several time he found his way down to his old dealers and purchased what he needed, only to throw it out within minutes of reaching Baker Street. Each time he threw it away for the same reason. Because every time he retuned home at least one of the Irregulars was there, waiting for him. Ready to help him with experiments, or look for cases in newspapers or even just to watch crap telly with.

And always looking to him for strength.

He hated life without John, he felt empty, like a part of him was missing. He also felt horrible, knowing that his only friend in the world had killed himself, because of him. But more than that he hated Moriarty, who had made John believe those things. Mira had offered to come on cases with him if he needed an assistant but he'd rejected the idea with poison in his voice. John was the only one who came with him on cases, that was how it was going to stay!

He hated sleeping, because of the nightmares, so he tried to stay awake as much as possible. However eventually he'd fall asleep and each time he awoke from a nightmare one of the Irregulars would be there, either sitting by him or even curled up next to him. Once he awoke to find Natty leaning over him and stroking his hair.

"It's okay Dad go back to sleep."

So he did.

...

A year passed, Sherlock had only been to John's grave once, just after the funeral. He'd broken down completely and Mycroft had to drag him out of the cemetery, by which time he'd become almost completely manic with grief. He hadn't gone again since.

But today was the anniversary and he promised himself he'd go, sentiment and all. Mira and the Irregulars waited at the flat for his return, they had no idea what state he'd be in. So off he went and not ten minutes later, John Watson walked into 221b.

Nina was facing the door and screamed as he opened it with a mix of shock and joy.

"Uncle John!"

"Hey." he waved nervously.

"Oh Uncle John we missed you so much!" Nina cried jumping into his arms, the other Irregulars followed until their combined weight bought them all to the floor in an awkward pile. John laughed and smiled for the first time in a full year.

"John where have you been?" Mira asked once the initial joy wore off.

John explained himself and the smiles faded slightly.

"Dad's at you're grave." Carlo said quietly, "For the anniversary."

"Sentiment." John whispered."

"You need to tell him, he'd barely lived all year." Mira said quietly

"I'll go get him." John agreed getting to his feet, turning to leave his sleeve caught. He looked down to see Marie holding onto his jacket.

"You're...You're coming back this time right?" She asked quietly.

"Yes." He smiled, "I promise."

...

Sherlock didn't speak to John's grave. He never had any kind of faith, he didn't believe John was in some paradise in another dimensions. He was here, in the ground. But God Sherlock wished John could be in paradise, he deserved it.

"Sherlock."

The detective squeezed his eyes, he sometimes heard John calling to him after he'd woken from a nightmare. Why was he hearing it now?

"Sherlock, open your eyes." The voice pleaded.

He did, after all what harm could it do. It would prove he was hearing things. What he didn't expect to see was John, watching him with cautious eyes, he was moving carefully like Sherlock was some time of wounded animal.

"John..."

Something was wrong, like at Baskerville, he couldn't trust his eyes.

"Sherlock it's me." He nodded.

"But...but you..." Sherlock's mouth suddenly felt very dry.

The detective felt his knees go out, but John caught him before he hit the ground, he was real! Sherlock shakily raised his hand and fisted it into John's jumper.

"I'm sorry. I am so so sorry Sherlock." John's voice wavered, "I didn't mean any of it I swear, Mycroft had this plan..."

Slowly Sherlock separated himself from John and the two sat on the grass in the middle of the grave yard and John explained everything. By the time he was done explaining how he finished off Moriarty's web Sherlock had already forgiven him, were the roles reversed he'd of done the same thing.

"You could of told me, I can act." Sherlock said with more bitterness than he meant.

"I wanted to but Mycroft..."

"Yes...Mycroft." He said the last word with twice the bitterness, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Do the children know you're back?" Sherlock asked finally, John nodded. That made Sherlock grin for the first time since John's death.

"Come on then, I believe it's time I used up those left over fire works and I'm sure they would love to help." The detective jumped to his feet, "The Diogene's Club could use the...colour."

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews! They make me wanna write more and more!**


	6. Chapter 6: Shock

**Halie -14**

* * *

Sherlock stood with Lestrade in the crime lab at Scotland Yard. He'd been teaching Halie how to memorise faces through the wanted criminal data banks with John when the inspector had waltzed in with two beakers and placed them in front of them.

"They were taken from that serial killers house, from the case last week." Lestrade explained.

"Ah so these must be his paralysis chemicals!" Sherlock grinned, looming over the two containers.

The case had been a disturbing one; the killer had drugged the victims with his own special formula that induced a catatonic like state while he hacked away at them. Sherlock had been unable to determine how much of the attack they had been aware of until they had managed to catch the killer in the act. He had already dosed up a young woman and was reading his knife when John had tackled him to the ground.

Once the drug had worn off the woman revealed it was like awakening from a dream, at first she felt nothing, complete sensory deprivation, then slowly she'd floated back to awareness by the shock of somebody attempting to use CPR on her.

"Actually only one of these is the chemical." Lestrade replied, "We've done extensive testing on both of them and one of them is harmful, they other is essentially liquid paracetamol."

"So?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"So our newest constable somehow mixed up the labels and now we don't know which is which." Lestrade sighed, "And all the forensic officers are off duty at the moment or at the crime scene of that murder in the paper this morning."

"Her gardener did it." Halie supplied, "I could tell by looking at her thumbs in the photo."

John chuckled.

"Either way, can you quickly identify which it is?" Lestrade asked Sherlock, "You know your chemicals."

"Do you need all of it?" Sherlock asked picking up the beakers, "How much can I take from each?"

"About half." Lestrade replied, "Why? It only takes a few drops to use the mas spec."

"Yes but it took a little more to dose a human." Sherlock replied before downing half of the beakers contents.

"Sherlock!" John cried.

"Paracetamol," Sherlock supplied, "I want to see the effects myself."

He then downed half the other beaker before any of them could stop him. He blinked a few times before his eyes took on a glassy pallor and he slumped onto the ground.

"That's it…" he slurred before going silent.

Lestrade by some miracle managed to save the beakers and place them on the bench while John laid Sherlock on his back.

"How are we going to wake him up?" Halie asked.

"Either we wait for it to wear off naturally, which could take hours, or we have to shock him awake." Lestrade sighed, "And he calls us the idiots."

For the next half an hour John and Lestrade tried everything, yelling in his ear, setting of a chemical explosion, Halie even dumped a bucket of cold water over him. Nothing. Not even a blink! Lestrade tired telling him that John and the kids were in danger, which earned them a twitch but nothing more.

"We have to wait." Lestrade shook his head, "We just can't surprise him."

"Either of you guys have any other ideas?" John asked, Halie made a face.

"Unfortunately I can only think of one." She said slowly.

"Well give it ago, what harm can it do?" Lestrade waved a hand in Sherlock's direction.

They had propped the detective up in the sitting position against the desk but he was still unresponsive, unseeing eyes staring at nothing and everything all at once.

Halie went over to him and sat directly in his eye line, gripping his shoulders before taking a deep breath and bellowing at the top of her lungs:

"DAD I'M PREGNANT!"

John actually fell over in shock. A few extremely tense seconds passed before Sherlock blinked.

"You're what!" He yelled.

"He's back." Halie replied.

"Yes yes I'm back now repeat what you just said!" Sherlock demanded.

"I said 'Dad I'm pregnant.'" She repeated, "But don't worry, I'm not. I just said that to wake you up."

The men all let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Never do that again!" Sherlock scolded, "Ever!"

* * *

**Hehe :P **


	7. Chapter 7: Immune I

**Carlo - 12**

* * *

"And...Selenium." Cedric finished, Sherlock beamed.

"John did you here that?" He asked, John didn't look up and instead focused on his newspaper.

"Sherlock you get them all to memorize the elements of the periodic table." John sighed, "I know they can do it."

"But Cedric just named forty of them and he's only four!" Sherlock continued, "Carlo can't name that many from memory as he's over twice his age!"

Carlo huffed and went back to pretending to read his book. He knew Sherlock didn't mean any malice to come from those, he wanted to praise Cedric, but it still hurt all the same. Carlo knew he was the least impressive of the Irregulars, at first he thought it might just be genetics but Riley was just as amazing as Cedric, so it had to be him.

He had the worst skills when it came to deduction and memory out of the bunch, the only thing he was really good at was playing poker. Sherlock always told him his observation skills were among the best, unfortunately he did what 'all the normal people' do and ignored the facts before his eyes. There was no way to hide it. Carlo couldn't deduce.

It irked him to no end that Cedric, who was practically a baby, was the apple of Sherlock's eye. Carlo had long given up the hope that he was a late bloomer, if he wanted to help it had to be with the others. They made him look good, gave him answers and things to say here and there. Carlo was completely normal and he hated it.

...

"Carlo stop sulking for God's sake." Joe sighed, "We weren't allowed to go either."

All of the Irregulars were confined to 222 Baker Street, Sherlock and John had been called off after some horrific serial killer and Sherlock forbade them to help on the case. He always did that with the really dangerous ones. To keep them busy he'd left them his chemistry box, filled with all kinds of concoctions for them to experiments with.

Carlo had been sulking ever since Cedric had impressed Sherlock earlier that week, naturally nobody had noticed until now, nobody noticed him. Sighing he dragged himself over and sat with Halie who was sorting through the various sorts of acid Sherlock had manufactured over the years.

"Hey look at this!" Riley exclaimed holding up an orange box.

They all recognized that box, Sherlock had bought it home a few days ago when the case began and given them all instructions not to touch it under any circumstances. He must of forgotten it was with his things when he left in such a hurry. He had been doing his best not to let them in on what was happening with the case, all they knew was the killer was somehow scaring people until they went mad and took their own life. It was like The Hound of Baskerville meets A Study in Pink.

"I bet the drug is inside." Natty smiled gleefully, "Imagine if we could find an antidote..."

"Natty no, Dad said not to touch it." Joe scolded but Natty had already grabbed the box and clicked it open, she scowled.

"This isn't a drug, these are just balls." She grumbled holding up a slightly powdery ball that reminded Carlo of a bath bomb.

"Alright then put it back." Joe ordered, Natty sighed tossing it into the box a little too forcefully.

As soon as it hit the surface the ball exploded in an epic puff of smoke sending dust everywhere and setting off all the other balls inside. Natty coughed and spluttered dropping it on the ground, further spreading the cloud until the whole room was filled.

All the kids coughed for a few moments until the dust cleared slightly, Carlo was about to ask if they were alright when Natty screamed. Then Nina, then Halie, then Riley. Eventually they were all yelling and running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off, Carlo didn't know what to make of it.

So he did the only thing he could, he ran next door and got Mrs. Hudson to ring his father. While he waited he dove back into the still musty room and tried to calm down his brothers and sisters, nothing seemed to work. Rickey seemed to think he was burning alive while Natty assumed she was freezing to death. Joe thought he was being beaten and Halie was under the impression she was covered in spiders. Nothing he did got through to them, he breathed a sigh of relief when John and his father finally showed up. Both wearing gas masks.

In the end John was forced to sedate them all and air the room, leaving John, Sherlock and Carlo left awake.

"I told you not to touch those!" Sherlock growled.

"It wasn't me!" Carlo argued.

"I know." Sherlock sighed, "You obviously weren't in the room for the initial explosion of dru-"

"Yes I was." Carlo corrected, both the men looked at him.

"What?" John asked, "That's impossible."

"Natty dropped one and it blew up, it made us all cough but I feel fine I swear." Carlo explained.

"That's impossible." Sherlock shook his head, "How did the drug not effect you?"

Carlo shrugged.

Sherlock paced around the room frantically, fingers steepled until he stopped and looked at his son carefully. Carlo could never remember Sherlock looking impressed with him before.

"Carlo you're brilliant!" Sherlock cried all of a sudden, "Don't you see? Against all odds, you're immune!"

"Immune, to that drug?" Carlo confirmed, "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Brilliant." Sherlock breathed.

...

Thanks to a small sample of Carlo's blood Sherlock was soon able to create a cure for the drug that made himself, John and the entire met immune. Making the capture of the criminal much easier now that they could actually enter the crime scenes before the person died.

Carlo beamed at his usefulness. Then he began to wonder...what if he was immune to other drugs and diseases as well. He could be more useful to Sherlock...

Well, there was only one way to find out.

* * *

**I think we all see where this is going...**

**Warning, the next chapter will be dark. **


	8. Chapter 8: Immune II

Since it was similar the first drug he tried was the H.O.U.N.D drug, which Sherlock still had notes on. After the case he had broken down the narcotic in order to see how it was made, luckily for Carlo he was able to copy to notes from his laptop without his father noticing. Recreating the drug was much harder though; it took him several weeks to sneakily acquire all the things he needed either from Sherlock's stores or from St. Barts. Luckily he had his own set of chemistry tools to use in order to create the final product.

The first thing he realised is that he was defiantly not immune to the H.O.U.N.D drug, he spent almost a half an hour thinking he was slowly being crushed by his own walls. He wasn't about to be deterred though; perhaps he could build up immunity? Surely that would be just as useful. So next he tried breathing in only a small portion of the misty drug, aside from a slight headache he felt no side effects. So every day he did the same thing, increasing the dose slightly every few days.

By the time two months had past he felt nearly nothing from breathing it in deeply. Excellent. Next on the list was chloroform and morphine. They were by far the most common drugs used to render somebody unconscious, if he were immune to that he would be much more useful to his father! Once years ago, he remembered watching a film called The Princes Bride, in which the clever man in black outsmarted a 'man of wits' by beating him at his own game. The man in black had been immune to the poison in his glass meaning he was able to drink either and still live, while the man of wits died.

After a month of trying to build up a resistance to chloroform he began to feel the effects. Perhaps he should have waited a little while before trying another drug. He still suffered headaches from the H.O.U.N.D. While he no longer hallucinated his headaches became worse and constantly drugging himself with a powerful sleep-inducing drug was not helping. So he switched over to Morphine, after a week on that he felt worse.

So he took a weeks break from drug testing thinking he'd feel better. In that time his throat dried, his headaches worsened and his body temperature skyrocketed.

"Carlo are you sure you're okay in there?" John called.

The boy was leaning over the white toilet bowl after just throwing up for the fourth time today, the only time he'd been unfortunate enough to have company.

"Yeah, I think I just have a bit of a stomach flu that's all." Carlo replied through the door, "No more running around London at night for me!"

John must have bought the act because his footsteps left the doorway and headed back in the direction of the kitchen. God what was wrong with him, he felt even worse than when he had been trying Morphine a week earlier…

Oh shit!

He mentally swore. The morphine! He'd addicted himself to the dam drug, all these symptoms he was experiencing were signs withdrawal! Shit shit shit! Sherlock was going to kill him! How could he of thought this was a good idea!? Then again, he hadn't been very sober for the past few months. Oh God Sherlock was going to kill him for this, when Dan did it he didn't leave the Irregular Hotel for months!

Well, now that he finally realised what was wrong, he knew what could make him feel better. More Morphine, but that was off the table, he was not becoming dependant on that stuff. But going to Sherlock was out of the question but he had to tell somebody…

John it is.

…

"Uncle John?" Carlo's voice felt very small as he peaked through the doorway to his Uncles room.

"Carlo," John smiled, "Do you want something for your stomach?"

"Um…yes and no." he replied shutting he door behind him, "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" John asked seeing how serious the boy was. Carlo took a deep breath.

"Well a few months ago Sherlock was proud of me, because I was useful being immune to the drug." Carlo started, John nodded, "And I though t that maybe I could be useful if I was immune to other drugs as well. But I wasn't, so I decided maybe I could build up an immunity…"

"You didn't." John gaped; no doubt he could see where this was going.

So Carlo explained all, how he'd managed to control himself under the influence of H.O.U.N.D and then he tried chloroform and finally morphine but he'd started to feel sick and stopped. Then today he realised why he felt even worse was due to withdrawal and he didn't know what to do because he knew Sherlock was going to be so very angry with him. By the end of the spiel he was crying.

"I'm r-really sorry!" He sobbed, "I just wanted to be useful! All the others are so much smarter than me even Cedric is more useful than I am! I know Sherlock finds normal people dull and I just…"

"You wanted to help." John sighed running his hands through his hair, "You're lucky you'd only tried morphine a little or this could be much worse, go lay down, you can stay here until it passes. But you will have to tell Sherlock eventually."

"I'm sorry." Carlo repeated before climbing under the covers.

"Sherlock loves you Carlo, you should know that." John sighed grabbing his medi bag and gathering the medicine he needed, Carlo just whimpered, sick of crying, dreading when he would have to tell Sherlock what happened.

Unbeknownst to either of the rooms occupants a certain detective had followed Carlo and was now standing outside the door after hearing every word.

…

It took John about four seconds to realise Sherlock knew everything about Carlo. It wasn't hard, he was currently flopped over the couch plucking angrily at his violin strings.

"Heard it all?" John asked, Sherlock nodded.

"He's a good kid Sherlock, he didn't realise he was only trying to be helpful." John explained, "He didn't know what he was doing was so dangerous."

Is this what I do John?" Sherlock asked not looking at him, "Take normal children and corrupt them into thinking that trying drugs and running around London at all hours fighting thugs is perfectly alright? Perhaps Donovan is right, I am a bad influence."

"You're not the best influence around." John admitted slowly, "But you love and care for them as much as any parent."

Sherlock huffed.

"I never meant to make Carlo feel inferior."

"I know"

"He doesn't"

"Maybe you should tell him that."

…

The fever had been terrible, Carlo tossed and turned, burning hot and freezing at the same time. His body ached, when he satyed still it was terrible, he wanted to move, but everytime he did it hurt even more. He cried he was sure. He refused food and water as soon as his lucidity left him, he was terrified the seemingly harmless treats were poisoned. Once or twice he was sure he saw eyeballs floating the soup being spooned into his mouth, it must of been terrible to clean the floor after he'd tossed it off the bed and onto the floor.

He was torn, he didn;t want Sherlock but he did. He was spekaing a lot but he was never really aware of what he was saying. God he hated this! Just make it stop! Make it stop!

"Just a little longer mate." He heard John hush, he must of begged out loud.

...

Once the withdrawl symptoms had worn off a few days had past, he was pale and tired but otherwise fine. He just had to wait until Sherlock came to see him, which would be soon. The detective had appeared one each day that he knew of, he simple walked in looked him over and walked out. Though John told him that he spent much of the night in here while he was asleep.

Now he sat on the bed, waiting for Sherlock's visit. John had disappeared to tell him that the effects had worn off a few minutes ago.

"How do you feel?" Sherlock asked when he appeared in the doorway.

"Fine." Carlo lied, he felt like his stomach was twisting in knots from nerves, "I am sorry I-"

Sherlock held up a palm to hush him.

"I know everything."

Carlo looked at his feet.

"Do you think I did not appreciate you as much as the others?" Sherlock asked, Carlo nodded.

"I'm normal." He hissed, "I'm the worst at deductions and detective work."

"But you are the best at observation, you simply need to hone your skills." Sherlock argued, "You managed not only to secure and recreate a highly complicated drug but you did it without anybody noticing. That takes a lot of skill. Especially to do so under my nose."

Carlo blinked, he hadn't thought about that.

"Plus, when you realised what was wrong, you knew it was too much to handle and got help."

"So?" Carlo asked, "I bet the others could of handled it on their own…"

"No they couldn't." Sherlock replied bluntly, "But they would of tired."

Carlo flinched.

"You picked the correct course." Sherlock nodded, "There is a time when you must accept the help of others, no matter how much you dislike the idea. You can't do everything on your own."

"You did once. Before John." Carlo replied. Sherlock chuckled.

"And look where that got me." Sherlock shook his head, "I was wrong then. And do not ask me to repeat myself because I wont."

"I'm still grounded though aren't I?"

"Oh yes."

* * *

**Carlo is one of the most unpopular irregulars so I decided to try and fix that! :) It didn;t end up as dark as I though it would be.  
**


	9. Chapter 9: Chimney

**Marie – 7**

* * *

"Marie you will come out of there this instant!" Sherlock bellowed.

The aforementioned girl had managed to lodge herself in the chimney of 221b Baker Street, the one place she could fit that her father could not reach.

"No!" She yelled.

"Marie it's dangerous in there." Mira sighed, "Come on dear the others are waiting."

"I wont! I won't go!" She cried, "I refuse!"

"Must we go through this every year?" Sherlock groaned, "It's a massive waste of my time."

"It wouldn't be if she would just be easy." Mira huffed.

"Marie if you don't come out right now you will be banned from helping on cases and experiments for three weeks." Sherlock growled, he wanted to get back to his experiment with the jam and fingernails but Mira insisted that she help him get the girl out of the chimney.

"Why didn't you stop her before she climbed in there?" Mira asked.

"I was doing an experiment, which I should be finishing." He grumbled, "I thought you said you'd deal with this kind of thing?"

"She's closer to you, you'll be able to get her out." Mira rationalized, "I'm taking the others, I'll come back for her."

"I'm not coming out!" Marie insisted again.

"You plan to live in the chimney for the rest of your life?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow that she couldn't see, "Sounds frightfully dull."

Silence, then...

"I'm not going."

"You have made that fairly clear." Sherlock frowned, "Well Mira is gone and I'm certainly not going to drive so you can come out."

More silence echoed out of the flat, sighing Sherlock went back to his experiment, keeping on eye on the chimney. After a few minutes scratching sounds began to echo down the chimney shaft and a small amount of dust and soot landed in the earth but no little girl.

"Dad?"

"You're stuck aren't you." He replied.

"…Yes."

"If I help you will you go with your mother?"

"…Yes…"

Grinning to himself Sherlock wandered over to the hearth and reached upwards, tugging Marie's legs and the girl cam tumbling down on him. Giving them both a liberally covering of black soot, more so Marie than anybody else.

"Must you do this every year?" Sherlock coughed trying to wipe the black powder from his shirt.

"Alright, the others are there I'm back for Marie!" Mira's voice echoed up the stairs, Marie gave a little squeak, heading to climb back up the chimney but Sherlock held fast to the squirming child until Mira had a firm grip on her arm.

"No! No I won't I wont!" Marie screamed acting the biggest brat she ever had.

Sherlock sighed.

"Every year, are shots really that bad?"

* * *

**Just a little drabble chapter. **


	10. Chapter 10: Knife

**Joe - 15**

**This takes place six months after Sherlock jumps off St. Barts in The Irregulars.**

* * *

Joe could hear John tossing in his sleep upstairs while the Irregular curled up on the couch. It was only a matter of minutes when he heard the doctor scream himself awake, Sherlock's name on his lips. Joe flinched, it always made him feel terrible keeping the secret that his father was alive knowing that he had to keep John in the dark. After a few moments of tense silence John's began to to pace around his room, Joe felt his guts twist. His uncle wasn't getting enough sleep.

Lacking any better ideas he reached for the violin sitting by the window where Sherlock had last left it. Sherlock had taught him how to play a while ago but it had been almost a year since he'd practiced. Taking a deep breath he began to play, it was nothing technical just simple scales followed by a few simple songs he knew. The violin would squeak in protest every now and then but over all he was doing well.

After half an hour of playing he noticed John had made his way into the room and sat down to listen. Neither spoke, so Joe kept playing until John fell asleep in his chair.

…

The six months that had passed were not easy on the kids, especially Joe. He missed Sherlock terribly and with him gone, he'd become the male leader of the group. They all looked to him for advice, like some how magically he knew what to do all the time. Right now he was in Germany with Mycroft's agents looking for proof that Richard Brooks identity was a fake. John thought he was with Mycroft at the Diogeness club in London, more deceit on the boys part.

Naturally with Brook being fake his childhood home didn't exist, ha. Right now Mycroft's agents had left him sitting on the cold stone stairs on a museum while they checked out some references they didn't deem safe for a young man such as himself to know. Joe shorted, he could tell more than they could. But nobody listens to a child.

The night was cold, soon the snows of winter would be falling. Ghe should of bought his scarf, not just his coat. The coat and scarf had become somewhat iconic nowadays. The 'Sherlock Holmes Gang' look. He'd thought it too noticeable.

"A child should not be sitting out here alone." A man said from behind him, "It's dangerous."

"I can handle myself." Joe spat back not sparing the man a look. He was so much more than a normal child…

"here," the man reached over his shoulder and placed a small box in Joe's lap.

"May as well have some protection on you."

Joe slipped open the box, inside what pearly white knife so polished he could see his reflection in the blade. It was beautiful. As he studied the knife the reflection shifted revealing the face behind him. The man had shortish red hair with a slight curl at the longer parts. Joe hid a grin when he saw grey irises peaking out from behind deep brown contacts.

"Thank you sir." He said simply.

"Right, I'd better get going, I have work to finish before I can go home." The man said simply, a slight English accent was detectable beyond the very prominent German one.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to keep your family waiting." Joe smiled, still not looking straight at the man.

"No, I wouldn't"

And then he was gone, just as Mycroft's agents came running down the stairs slightly panicked. Mycroft had given strict orders that they were not to let any harm to come to the child. And now they had found him holding a knife and talking to a stranger. By the time they reached him the man was gone.

"Who was that?" One of the agents asked.

"Oh nobody." Joe shrugged, "Just some homeless guy. Gave me the knife in case I needed protection. Think he thought I was homeless too."

"Right well come on, we got what we need." The agent stiffened and began to lead him down the stairs.

Joe glanced back towards the building behind them, if one looked closely, you could just make out the silhouette of a certain dead detective beside it.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long, I've been so busy lately and my computer glitched and I had to write this twice! **


	11. Chapter 11: You Repel Me

**Since both of these were along the same lines I decided to put them together in one chapter but they take place a different points in time. Just warning you.**

* * *

**Mikey – 15**

In all honesty Mikey hadn't given a single thought to his birth father in years, the abusive sod may as well be dead. He'd been dead to his son ever since that day in the hospital when he'd walked up without sparing him a second glance, that'd been the night, he met Sherlock. That was most defiantly the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Even now back in his old neighbourhood he hadn't spared his original life a second thought. Too busy focusing on the case at hand, the murderer had been from around these parts if the mud on his shoes was anything to go by. Now he just had to find something o explain the blue paint found mixed with it. A freshly painted wall or even an abandoned paint can would have worked. However after an hour he'd still found nothing.

The last time he'd been a regular face in this part of London he was a child, barely five years old or was it six? Life before Sherlock was a little hazy really. Nobody would recognise him now, especially in the dark coat and deep blue scarf.

That's why he almost fell over with shock when he heard a voice call out his name.

"Mikey?"

Remembering his lessons with Sherlock he turned to face the voices owner, keeping his face blank and emotionless.

The man was in his forties that much was obvious, however he looked much older, alcohol, drugs and cigarettes were to blame going by his fingers, teeth and eyes. However he quickly deduced the man had been sober for at least three years, the smoking continued however. He was wearing clothes that were patched an old, he obviously had very little money.

He could almost be one of Sherlock's homeless network though Mikey could tell by the shoes he wasn't, very poor though. Then again who wasn't poor in this area?

"Yes." Mikey replied calmly, "I'm busy, is there something of interest you have to tell me?"

The man licked his lips nervously.

"You look like you're doing well for yourself." The man said finally, Mikey sighed.

"Yes I am now please, I have work to do now, do you have something relevant to say?"

"Don't you remember me?" The man asked sadly.

Oh.

"You're that man." Mikey's voice turned dark.

"I'm you're dad." The man corrected.

"No you're not." Mikey scoffed, "Now I need to go thank you."

He turned and began to walk away but his father followed him.

"I did look for you y'know but the system kept me away!" He argued.

"I do not blame them." Mikey replied, "They had reason to."

"Listen son, I-"

"I'm not you're son." Mikey cut in.

"I wasn't a good dad I know that but I'm sober now and-"

"Sorry, but I already have a father." Mikey cut in again, "And right now I am busy."

"That detective bloke?" His father asked, "I saw 'im in the paper, surely he's just a fake."

"Do. not. Insult. Sherlock Holmes. In front of me." Mikey sneered looking his father straight in the eyes.

"He was that guy in the hospital that night wasn't he!" The man clicked his fingers.

"Yes, and that was the best thing that ever happened to me." Mikey smiled, "Blood only goes so far, he raised me, that makes him my father. Not you."

"I've changed I mean it." He implored, "If you don't believe me I-"

"Oh I believe your sincerity." Mikey grimaced, "Unfortunately it's come much too late."

* * *

**Lisa – 16**

Lisa had always enjoyed the homeless network; they made great eyes and ears around the city. She often got tips for Sherlock from them and bought them old clothes and food when she could. Right now she was coming to meet them to see if any of them saw the get away car from a robbery a few nights ago.

Like most of her siblings she rarely thought of her family before Sherlock. When she was a child Belinda Tiller was an image of fear that would conjure nightmares, the idea of going back to her 'mother' was terrifying. Now she hardly ever entered her mind. A few years back she remembered hearing something about her mother loosing all her money to gambling or something along those lines, she'd not batted an eyelid.

Were in not for the warm firelight coming from the trashcan Lisa wouldn't of even seen her, even then she barely recognised her without her fancy clothes and thick make up.

"How the mighty fall." She sighed.

"Lisa?" Belinda was wide eyed, "My little Lisa? You're so much taller!"

"That happened Belinda, children grow up." She replied before smirking, "You're doing well for yourself."

"Oh Lisa you've got money to spare don't you?" Belinda begged, "I'm your mother for goodness sakes!"

"I have a mother." Lisa replied, "But she's not you."

"But-"

"I'm not a child." Lisa argued, "I'm not afraid of you anymore, I never will be."

"I did terrible things I know." Belinda looked at the ground.

"Oh yes you did, but I forgive you." Lisa sighed.

Belinda gaped at her.

"But that does not mean I love you, I could never love you." Lisa growled.

"You hate me." Belinda sighed, "I suppose that's understandable."

"No I don't hate you." Lisa replied as she turned to walk away, the opposite of love is not hate as so many people believe."

"What?" Belinda was confused.

Lisa turned around slightly, one eye on her former mother.

"The opposite of Love is indifference, if you hate somebody you still care in some way." Lisa explained, "Whether you become the most famous woman in Britain or die tomorrow, it will make no difference to me."

The woman gaped at her child.

"You are nothing to me."

* * *

_If you just walked away_

_What could I really say?_

_would it matter anyway?_

_would it change how you feel?_

_I am the mess you chose_

_the closet you can not close_

_The devil in you I suppose_

_'cuz the wounds never heal_

_But everything changes_

_if I could turn back the years_

_If you could learn to forgive me_

_then I could learn to feel_

_Sometimes the things I say_

_In moments of disarray_

_Succumbing to the games we play_

_To make sure that it's real_

_When it's just me and you_

_Who knows what we could do_

_If we can just make it through_

_through this part of the day_

_Then we could_

_Stay here together_

_And we could_

_Conquer the world_

_If we could_

_Say that forever_

_It's more than just a word_

_If you just walked away_

_What could I really say?_

_It wouldn't matter anyway._

_It wouldn't change how you feel_

**The song that inspired this chapter. **


	12. Chapter 12: Nightmares

**This takes place eight months after Sam's death in the Irregulars.**

* * *

_"Sorry I'm such a brat."_

_"You're my brat."_

_Sherlock was standing on a very tall building, he peered over the edge and saw the ground was hundreds of floors below him, he could barely see the city below. Sam was there, walking along the small edge around the building, laughing and showing off. The detective tried to open his mouth and tell him to come away from the edge but his mouth wasn't working._

_Then to his horror blood began to drip down the boys face from his hairline but Sam took no notice. Sherlock felt sick, why couldn't he move?_

_"Sam." He rasped dryly, talking felt wrong and stiff._

_"Dad?" Sam turned to him and wobbled on the edge._

_"Here let me help you."_

_The voice belonged to a much younger Sherlock; his face was bruised from a fight with his father. The younger Sherlock made his way over to Sam while the elder watched still frustratingly frozen on the spot._

_Gently younger Sherlock pushed Sam backwards; Sam wobbled but didn't seem worried about falling of the perilously high edge. The shoves got stronger until Sam was barely standing, swaying dangerously._

_"Stop it!" Older Sherlock demanded. The younger him looked up at him, grinning._

_"Make me!"_

_And kicked Sam right over the edge._

…

John was used to waking up to screams, his own, after a nightmare of Afghanistan. However he'd been sleeping peacefully tonight when Sherlock's yell echoed through the entire flat, it wouldn't surprise John if Mrs Hudson had heard it as well.

Instantly worried, the doctor ran downstairs toward Sherlock's room. He entered the room surprised to find Sherlock sitting up against the headboard of his bed, nightmare. Sherlock rarely slept these days anyway, finding him asleep would have been amazing, a nightmare was simply impossible. At least that's what John had thought.

He had his fist shoved in his mouth , it was bleeding slightly from where his teeth had dug into the knuckles. His breathing was fast and panicked, as far as John knew Sherlock didn't even know he was in the room.

"Sherlock?"

The detective jumped, then turned red and diverted his eyes. He was embarrassed.

"Are you alright?"

"O-of course." Sherlock winced at the fluctuation in his voice, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Sherlock it's okay-"

"Go away John." Sherlock growled.

John stayed where he was as Sherlock scrapped a fist across his eyes to try and dispel any tears that may have been visible. Sighing John sat down on the edge of the bed while Sherlock did his best to try and put his mask of indifference on.

"You're allowed to be upset you know." John told him, "You can tell me what the dream was about, I can hardly judge you can I?"

Sherlock whimpered slightly.

John took a breath and reached out to his best friend, pulling him into a one armed hug with the taller mans head resting on his shoulder. The action could do great good for Sherlock or it would make things worse. Luck was on John's side. Sherlock didn't pull away, instead John could feel him shaking, silently sobbing.

"S-Sam…" Sherlock moaned dejectedly as an explanation.

John couldn't help but smile sadly; it was about time Sherlock grieved properly.

…

Sam was puzzled, he'd seen his dad suffer the other night due to a nightmare, he'd not gone to sleep since. He was frightened of dreaming again, Sam deduced. So patiently the little ghost boy waited until finally Sherlock's body demanded he sleep and dove straight into his fathers mind, he was unsure about how it was done but becoming part of his dads dream was quite easy.

He made them relive the good cases, the time Sherlock had taught Sam about the table of elements and the time Sam had blown up John's best jumper with chemicals. It was wonderful to relive the memories. When Sam finally decided to go back to the world of spirits we looked down at his father who was sleeping peacefully.

Now he could heal.

* * *

That dream is rife with symbolism people...


	13. Chapter 13: World War II

**AU: If the Irregulars took place during WWII.**

* * *

1941

John hated seeing London this way, half of it was rubble and the other half was on it's way. The air raids were getting more and more frequent now, he longed to be able to do something about it. He was on the front lines until his superiors called him back home. Doctors were rarer and rarer and after his injury frankly, he was better off healing people caught by bombs in the city than bullets in the trenches. Luckily the children had been evacuated, he didn't want to deal with the dead bodies of children.

He'd been patrolling the streets when he saw the man in the dark trench coat, lingering suspiciously by the houses that were in the good shape. At first he thought nothing of him, the man quickly left his mind when the sirens went off announcing another bomb raid.

He saw him again a few times, always lingering around well kept houses with people still living in them. Finally John's curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you doing just wandering around?" He asked the man, he had dark curls and sharp eyes. He was only a few years John's junior, it was rare to see somebody in his age range not in the military.

"I have little choice doctor." he replied dryly, homeless then.

"How did you know I was a doctor?" John's brow furrowed.

"Obviously you're a solider, your uniform says as much. At your age you should be on the front lines but you're not meaning you've been injured, most likely somewhere non lethal but enough to make you a liability, shoulder then." The man deduced, "But you're doing something to do with the military in London or you wouldn't be in your uniform, hence doctor."

"That's brilliant!" John breathed.

"I know." The man replied smugly.

"I'm John, John Watson." John introduced holding out a hand, the other man didn't take it.

"Sherlock Holmes." He replied dryly.

John dropped his hand and was about to ask why Sherlock wasn't out fighting, especially if he was homeless when the air raid siren went off. John turned to look for any signs of planes and when he turned back the man was gone.

...

There was so much work to be done after the raid that Sherlock Holmes didn't even surface in the doctors mind for several days. Once again he was out patrolling, the government was trying to do it's best to stop looting with these patrols. However London was a big city and there weren't really enough patrollers.

The sound of shifting wood drew him toward a wrecked house, silently he creeped inside the walls, there was no roof. He silently cursed when his heavy boot crushed a glass bottle and the noise stopped.

"Daddy?"

John bit his lip, that was a child's voice, a little girl, what on earth was she doing here?

"Daddy? Is that you?" The voice asked tentatively only to be shushed by another older one.

Slowly John walked toward the sound, turning the corner and finding two children, a boy of about fourteen and a much younger girl with blonde curls.

"What are you two doing here?" He asked, "You shouldn't be in London!"

The boy hugged the girl to his chest protectively.

"None of you're business." he replied just as yet another siren sounded.

"Come with me, I'll take you to a shelter." John offered smiling.

"No." The girl replied sourly, "Joe, lets find Daddy."

John sighed when he realized this girls father was probably off fighting in the war, the boy was probably humoring her.

"It's not safe, we can find your daddy later." John told her, "Now please the bombs will start any moment."

Joe and his sister took off, John groaned, he couldn't just let kids run off lone in an air raid.

He took off after them.

For children they were fast, weaving through the streets, sticking to cover just in case, never crossing out into open areas. John almost lost them several times until finally he saw the two slip under an old chain link fence and into an abandoned warehouse. Though really it was more of a shed.

He groaned when a few seconds later he saw several other children appear and slip under it as well. How children managed to find each other this way always amazed John, probably spread via word of mouth. Why hadn't these children been taken to the country?

After a few moments waiting as the earth shook from another bomb John dashed out toward the fence, finding a large rip a little further along that he could easily slip through.

The warehouse was small and falling apart due to lack of care, it was a single room made of wooden planks and a tin roof, it wasn't much but it would be home for these children. He peaked through the loose boards and peered inside. The floor was wood as well, one corner was made up of a few thin mattresses and blankets most likely looted from houses left empty during the air raids. There were a few crates in another corner and a typewriter that had seen better days. Inside were at least thirteen, maybe fourteen children. John recognized the eldest, Joe from before.

John was once again amazed that these children were here, some of them barely looked three, where on earth were their families?

"Somebody's there!" A girl suddenly yelled pointing to the crack where John was looking.

Quickly he opened the rickety door, the younger children hid behind one another, all eyes watched him warily.

"Relax, I'm friendly." John smiled.

"You followed us." Joe growled.

"He's a doctor, maybe he could-"

"Shhh Marie!" Joe hissed.

"Could what?" John asked kindly, amazed the girl deduced his profession. The girl named Marie shuffled her feet.

"Nina cut her arm on barbwire." Marie explained quietly, "We don't have any bandages."

John smiled kindly, the children began to relax slightly, letting him into the room. John knelt down and looked at Nina's arm, the cut wasn't bad, but it would get infected without treatment. Carefully he bandaged it up to avoid it.

"There all done." He sighed.

"Why are you here?" The eldest girl asked.

"You must be hungry..."

"Halie."

"Halie, come with me, I'll take you to a shelter and we can get you sent off somewhere safer than London."

"I don't want to be shipped off to the country," One boy spat, "It was bad enough the first time."

John slowly came to learn over the next hour that all these children were alone in the world. Parents dead or thought to be at least, sent off to cruel homes and finally they had ended up here.

"Do you have any food?" John offered, "There are a lot of mouthes to feed here."

"Air raid is over now, food will be coming soon." One of the girls noted, ah so they were going looting.

"It's too late now, if your planning on looting food." John chided, "Families will be back in their homes by now."

"Oh we're not-"

"I'm back." Came a very adult voice from outside, a familiar voice.

John gaped when the door opened and in stepped none other than Sherlock in his big black coat, a sack in his hands.

Oh now it made sense, Sherlock had been waiting for the sirens, waiting for the people to run off their their raid shelters so he could steal the food from them and bring it back here. Even though looting was wrong, John couldn't help but admire the man for that. At least he wasn't looting out of selfishness.

"Here." Sherlock sat down against the wall by the mattresses and began handing out the food he'd found. Mostly it was bread and cheeses, a few pieces of fruit which he sliced with a pocket knife and divided up, all the while ignoring John.

The children had gasped with glee when he produced a small ham, probably taken right off somebodies dinner table. Food like that had to be off the black market, no way could anybody afford it on ration cards.

"We haven't eaten so well in ages!" One of the boys grinned tearing at the meat.

"Now now, chew properly, you are not an animal Michael." Sherlock chided, "Don't just swallow it down Clara, savor it, you don't know when we will get food like this again."

Once the children were silent, eating hungrily Sherlock went about putting a few sparse non-food items in the crates. John saw a few pens, some paper, a small roll of bandage and a near empty bottle of pills.

"I assume you are not here to cause trouble." the man drawled, obviously addressing John, "The children would not of let you stay otherwise."

"I followed two of them here when the siren went off."

"That's funny, I specifically told them all not to go out tonight." Sherlock sent them a dark look.

"You'd been gone for ages." The blonde girl whispered, "We were worried."

Sherlock's eyes softened slightly.

"I can handle myself you all know the drill if I don't come back."

"It's a stupid plan." The blonde girl sniffed, Sherlock ruffled her hair affectionately.

"Relax Natty, I always come back."

"I know Daddy." she sighed.

Oh that explained a little, this girl was the mans daughter, but surely not all these children could be his?

"Go on." Sherlock said cooly, "Time you were all sleeping, I need to have a word with the good doctor here."

...

An hour passed and the children were all out cold, exhausted.

"Why didn't you send your daughter off to the country where it's safe?" John asked.

"She's not my daughter." Sherlock rebuffed, "They all call me that now."

"So what they all just find you?"

"Basically." Sherlock breathed, " I found a few and then they found the rest, I bring them food, make sure they are safe."

John nodded approvingly before sighing.

"So who'd you loose?"

"Excuse me?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"Doing all this, you lost somebody." John guessed, "This is how you're making up for it."

Sherlock bristled slightly, breathing out in slight annoyance before lifting a small photograph from one of the pockets in his coat.

The photo showed Sherlock standing with a very beautiful woman and a small boy.

"I was out when the raids first began, bomb completely destroyed my home." Sherlock said stiffly, unemotionally, "Took them both out, my brother as well."

"Im sorry." john replied.

"Don't be, it wouldn't be war without casualties." Sherlock replied, "I never got on with my brother anyway and Irene...it was an arranged marriage I never really felt close to her. She was manipulative, good company though, very intelligent."

"And the boy?" John continued.

"Sam." Sherlock actually looked sad now, "My son, he'd wanted to go with me that day, should of let him."

"Well, you're doing good here." John replied, "But I still think you should all get away from London."

"And go where?" Sherlock scoffed, "In the country we'd be safe from bombs but we'd starve to death. At least here there is food and places I can get medicine and blankets if I need them."

"By stealing." John rebuffed.

"And how do you expect me to get enough food for them legally?" Sherlock argued, "It's this or die."

"I'm not going to report you." John said eventually, "You can go on doing this."

Sherlock seemed surprised at that.

"I'll help you some time." John nodded, "Sneak you guys some ration cards."

"Thank you." Sherlock nodded.

"You're welcome." John smiled.

* * *

**I was inspired to write this after re-watching the first season of Doctor Who 2005, specifically The Empty Child.**

**I made Sam Sherlock's real son and Irene his wife just out of lack of other characters. I contemplated making Mira his mother but it didn't feel right. **

**There will be anther part to this, should Mira appear?**


	14. Chapter 14: World War II Part 2

**AU: If the Irregulars took place during WWII. Part 2.**

* * *

The raids were coming more and more often now, almost every night or so. It made John worry incessantly, not for himself but for Sherlock and the children. Sherlock was smart though, they had only a candle to light the shed they lived in, not nearly enough light to be spotted and the area within was sparse and barely populated, bombs hardly ever fell near them. But you could never be sure.

With the uptake of raids came the uptake of injured, the doctor hardly had time to go and check on the small family. Over the weeks he'd warmed to Sherlock and Sherlock to him, in his own way. One would hardly call Sherlock a warm and welcoming person but he no longer looked at the doctor with distrust, especially after he'd delivered a small pocket full of ration cards.

The two friends had even started talking about people they knew, John's friends were out on the front line mostly but Sherlock had come from high society. Many of his family were most likely around England somewhere. Sherlock had lost both his parents years ago the same as John and his wife, son and brother in the air raid.

"He was a pompous git." Sherlock rolled his eyes when he mentioned his brother, "No doubt he would have been useful now though."

"I had a sister." John told him one night, "Harriet, she ran away from London after the first air raid, I don't know where she is now."

"Perhaps she is alive." Sherlock shrugged as the two scourged through an empty kitchen with a flashlight looking for food.

"Cheese." John nodded breaking the large chunk in half and palming part of it. Unlike Sherlock he felt marginally bad for stealing food from innocent people, he tried to only take half. Sherlock just huffed and took all he could find.

"I had a sister as well." Sherlock said slowly, "Though I doubt she's is alive now."

"You don't know?" John blinked, Sherlock shook his head.

John had been about to prompt further when he heard the distinctive sound of feet on the stone path from the garden. Raid was officially over and they had to get moving. How they'd not been caught was a miracle.

"Hello Uncle John!" Smiled Clara when he entered the small shack, he chuckled.

They had started calling him that now, after being alone for so long with no family to rely on he had to admit he liked it.

They were just about to settle down to eat when Sherlock froze.

"Listen.' He hissed.

John could hear it too, a plane overhead, not too far from them. Then the tell tale sign of whistling. They were wrong, the raid wasn;t over, one plane was late.

"Move!" Sherlock bellowed.

They didn't need to be told twice, the children bolted out the door and through the yard to the fence.

"Into the ditch!" John ordered pointing to the large divot in the ground, probably from one of the early bombs that had been removed. The family jumped down into the hole and all hell broke loose as an explosion fired over them. The whole ordeal had taken no less than thirty seconds.

The children screamed.

John covered his ears to protect them from the blast, Sherlock hugged Nina to his chest, dirt and mud flew over the top of the hole and then there was silence.

Nobody spoke for a long time, they all just huddled together trembling. Finally John stood slowly looking out to where the shed had been, the bomb had landed on the other side of the fence creating a huge hole in the ground, the surrounding blast had shot outwards, destroying the shed in the shockwave and completely ruining the fence save a few loose and crooked posts. They were lucky, had the bomb landed on top of the shed they wouldn't of been spared, even if they were in the hole.

"Shhhh it's all right, we're okay." Sherlock soothed trying to calm the very obviously shell-shocked children, "We're all fine, it's all fine."

"We need to find somewhere to stay for the night." John spoke up, "Like it or not we need to go to a shelter, I'll take you to the hospital where I work, people stay in the basement."

…

"John!"

John grinned at the site of Bill, a fellow solider and doctor, a friendly face was always welcome after an ordeal like that.

"We thought the bombs had got ya!"

"Nah mate, I just had to pick up some stragglers, they're home got hit." John explained motioning to the children huddling around Sherlock, "It's a miracle they weren't hurt. Got out just in time."

"God knows they are not the only ones." Bill sighed, "Tell them to pick a spot on the floor, it's the best we can do."

"I know."

Despite the fact that there were so many people squashed into one building the hospital was very quiet. Save for a few whispered and sniffling children. Due to the aftermath of the raid John was tossed straight into work and was soon wrist deep in somebodies gut.

It was hours later when he could finally search the crowds for the strange family and found them all huddled in a dark corner of the hospital. A loud cry pireced the still air and man yelled in frustration.

"Will somebody shut that thing up! It's been crying practically non stop since it was born!"

"He's a he, not an it." One of the nurses scolded, "And it's not his fault, he misses his ma."

The thing in question turned out to be a small baby wrapped up in a blanket with a locket around his neck. The babe looked no more than a few weeks old, despite his dark head of hair.

John recognised the baby, he'd been born earlier that month just after a bomb raid. The shock of a bomb had sent his mother into early labour; luckily she'd been due in only a week. The baby had been born safely enough but the mother hadn't lasted long, she'd named him Cedric, placed her necklace round his neck and then she was gone.

Out of lack of things to talk about John told the family the story, they nodded sadly. The poor thing, now he had no family.

"Didn't even get the woman's name." John sighed, "The locket is the only thing he;s got."

"let me see." Sherlock offered.

John shrugged, what the hell? He'd seen Sherlock deduce people from the mud on their shoes, perhaps he could find this boys family.

After a few seconds to staring at the locket, which was empty, John had check, Sherlock smiled sadly.

"Her name was Mira." Sherlock said quietly, "Mira Holmes."

"Your sister." John breathed, couldn't this man catch a break.

"You're this kids uncle?" The nurse questioned, Sherlock nodded.

She hurriedly handed him over, now she wasn't responsible for Cedric anymore. Much to everybody's surprise, Cedric stopped crying. John chuckled, Sherlock looked very uncomfortable, like he'd never held a child in his life.

"Uh, hello." Sherlock said finally, Cedric gurgled.


	15. Chapter 15: Black Magic

**Clara – 10**

**Nina – 11**

* * *

"Hey Dad want to see a magic trick?" Nina asked leaning over Sherlock's shoulder as he examined slime in a petri dish.

"Nina you know perfectly well there is no such thing as magic." Sherlock chided, "It's all trickery and confusion, illusions."

"Smoke and mirrors." Clara finished for him, "But not this time, we can do real magic."

Sherlock raised his eyebrow at them.

"Oh fine, lets get this over with."

The two girls beamed.

"Okay this is called Black Magic." Clara explained, "You will tell Nina an object in the room while I'm out of ear shot and then she will point to objects and ask if they are what you chose and I will answer yes or no."

"Simple enough." Sherlock nodded, Nina left the room.

"I pick my microscope." Sherlock said quickly, the sooner they finished their trick the faster he could deduce how it was done and get on with his experiment.

"Okay, Nina come back!" Clara called and then pointed to the microwave.

"Is it the microwave?"

"No." Clara shook her head.

"The couch?"

"No."

"My shoes?"

"No."

"Dad's hair?"

"No."

"The microscope?"

"Yes."

Sherlock blinked, she'd gotten it right.

"Obviously you are using some sort of facial cue." He dismissed, both girls shook their heads.

"Blindfold us if you don't believe it." Nina challenged and Sherlock never turned down a challenge.

So he did, then picked another object and another and another. Every time they guess right. It didn't matter which one of them were making suggestions either. Every time they picked the right object.

"There is no such thing as magic!" Sherlock explained, "This is just a trick!"

"Yeah…" Clara sighed but then smiled wickedly, "So how'd we do it?"

Sherlock bit his lip in frustration.

…

Three days later he had still not figured out how the girls had done it, not only that but all the other Irregulars had. They watched the game for a few rounds and then proceeded to whisper something in Clara's ear, she'd nod and grin and then they would proceed to play. How is it he couldn't figure this out!

He designed experiment after experiment. There had to be some kind of sign!

But each time they outwitted him.

"Is it the fireplace?"

"No."

"Is it the mantle?"

"No."

"Is it the laptop?"

"No."

"Is it the skull?"

"Yes."

"How are you doing that!?" Sherlock yelled in frustration.

They could even do it while not in the same room. One experiment had both the participants on either side of a locked door and blindfolded and they still guessed Sherlock's object.

He'd tracked every possible pattern but none of them were the same. The number of objects before the right one was always random, the objects they chose were diverse, there just wasn't any plausible way for this to be possible!

John had been enjoying Sherlock's frustration naturally. He'd watched round after round of this game, beaming along with the kids while Sherlock ranted and raved trying to figure out the trick.

"Is it the pillow?" Carlo asked.

"No." Replied Dan grinning.

"Is it the chair?"

"No."

"Is it the knife?"

"No."

"Is it that shoelace?"

"Yes." Replied John before Dan could.

Sherlock gaped at him.

No. No no no! It was impossible there is just no way John had figured it out before him! John just grinned at him evilly.

"What's the matter Sherlock?" He asked in mock sympathy, "Surely you've got it by now."

"Almost." He lied and John knew he was lying.

The doctor laughed.

"Would you like a hint?"

Sherlock Holmes had never needed a hint in his life! But…

"Fine." He scoffed.

"The game is called Black Magic." John said simply.

"How is that a clue? I already knew that!"

"Think." Dan said simply.

…

"I give up!" Sherlock said after one month, papers of calculations went flying everywhere.

"Just tell me how it works!" He pleaded.

The Irregulars laughed.

"Do you remember all the rounds we played?" Nina asked, Sherlock nodded.

"Think about the object before each of the right ones." Clara prompted.

He'd already done that; there were no similarities, his hair, a knife, a laptop…

"It's called Black Magic." John repeated.

Black magic, black, magic….wait a minute.

His hair was black. So was that knife handle AND the laptop.

Oh no…

"There is no way it was that simple!" He yelled, "You mean to tell me…"

"The object before the one the person picked is always black." Clara confirmed.

"So the minute your partner in crime says an object that's black you know that the next object is the right answer." John finished.

Sherlock felt incredibly stupid, something had never happened before. He'd over analysed.

Groaning he flopped down on the couch with his hands over his face.

Everybody laughed.

* * *

**I started writing a sequel to my story Alpha's and Omegas! :) Yay! I really wish I'd known about the Omegaverse before writing it though so I could of picked a different name! XD**

**Black Magic is a game we play all the time to mess with people. One time my brother and I had a guy in tears of frustration over it.  
**


	16. Chapter 16: The Stake Out

**Cedric - 4**

"Why can't I come?"

"Because stake outs can be dangerous." Sherlock replied.

"But I never get to help!"

"Cedric you are four years old, not old enough for stake outs." John sighed grabbing the small bag of essentials to take to the stake out house.

"All the others get to help some time." Cedric pouted.

"You can help some other time." Sherlock informed him, "now, be careful and don't get in Mira's way alright?'

"Fine..."

"Everything will be fine Sherlock." Mira smiled, "Come on Cedric, let's go back next door."

John quickly followed Sherlock down to the car Lestrade had waiting, he had to admit he was excited. He'd never been on a stake out before. The fact that Donovan, Anderson and Dimmok were coming with them was a bit of a buzz kill though. They had no idea when the culprits would return to the warehouse and pick up the drugs so they could be stuck living in the abandoned house for some days. Sherlock would be at his wits end within one.

"Come on then, lets go, we need to get there before dark." Lestrade ordered.

"I'll shut the boot!" Cedric grinned, Anderson raised an eyebrow.

"Oh let him." John smirked as he climb into the car after Sherlock, "He's been wanting to do something useful all day."

...

The house itself was pretty nice, inconspicuous single story building, still with all its furniture left in it. Sherlock immediately deduced the former owners had been in debt and run away, taking only their most important possessions. Leaving them the perfect hide out that just so happened to be facing a warehouse down the hill where a local drug gang was thought to be meeting.

With the lack of evidence they had no choice but to catch them in the act. Hence the stake out.

"Why is Anderson here?" Sherlock groaned dumping his pack on the floor and flopping down on a couch, "He's a forensics officer!"

"Drug bust." Anderson rolled his eyes, "Somebody needs to identify substances."

"I could." Sherlock argued, John rolled his eyes and tuned out. They would be at each others throats for hours no doubt.

And they were. Six hours passed and soon it was dark, they had a dinner consisting of beans and toast heated up on a camp cooker. No electricity in the house and even if there was they couldn't use it without alerting people to their presence. So they all had a very unromantic candle lit dinner.

Sherlock took first watch, simply because he needed something to do, so everybody else just pottered about. John was inspecting the bedroom, there was only one, meaning most of them would be on the floor.

That's when he heard it, a creaking down the hall where they had left their bags, footsteps. Suddenly on guard, hand on his Sig he walked out. The sound was heading toward the living room where the others were, John turned the corner gun at the ready.

"Cedric!?"

The little boy was peering into the lounge and taken completely by surprise.

Frustrated, John grabbed the boys hand and dragged him into the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked cooly, Cedric looked at the floor.

"Well, I wanted to come and so I hid in your bag."

"No you didn't I'd of noticed the weight." Sherlock argued.

"Not yours dad, his!" Cedric pointed to Anderson, "I curled up really small and his bag was the biggest."

"Well, we can't take him back to London now." Lestrade sighed, "He'll have to stay here tonight at least."

"Yay!" Cedric grinned.

"Does your mother know you're here?" Sherlock asked, "I specifically told you to stay home Cedric! Mira will be worried sick."

"I ummm I didn't really think bout that..." Cedric admitted.

"No, you didn't."

...

"look, I found a bear." cedric smiled, hours had passed and Sherlock had calmed down enough that Cedric wasn't afraid of talking anymore. Instead he'd been off exploring the house, he came back holding a mangey looking old bear with glass eyes.

"Ew that thing looks ancient." Sally screw up her nose.

"It's fine." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Play with it if you want Cedric."

"Why can't we turn the lights on?" Cedric asked, "It's really dark..."

"Because if we do the bad men will know we are here." Lestrade explained.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the term 'bad men' as if it was some how inappropriate.

"Just go to sleep," Anderson sighed, "It's almost mid night."

"It's too dark." Cedric argued, "I'll stay up until the sun rises a bit."

"What afraid of the dark are you?" Anderson scoffed.

"Yes, because it's so strange for a child of four to be frightened of the dark." John snapped.

"He's going to get in the way." Dimmock sighed from his post watching the still silent warehouse.

"He doesn't have to sleep if he doesn't want to." Sherlock replied casually, winking at John, who smirked.

The police officers shared a look of confusion at the silent conversation between the pair.

"Cedric, there are plenty of old pictures in this house, look at those, that should keep you up." Sherlock suggested just as casually, but the adults in the room could tell he was up to something.

As expected Cedric went about climbing the furniture and gathering up the pictures from the walls to bring them closer to the candles sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Dad, I can't reach that one." Cedric said trying to hide a yawn.

The picture in question was hanging over the empty fireplace and was much too large to move. It was of some nameless country estate with a large oak tree in front of it and a small garden visible to the side.

"Here." Sherlock answered quietly, lifting him up and resting the boy on his hip lightly.

"it's a big house." Cedric noted.

"it's called an estate." Sherlock told him in a hushed tone.

"An estate?"

"A large house in the country." Sherlock explained.

"Like the Holmes mansion?" Cedric asked, "Where you grew up?"

All who weren't Lestrade or John felt their jaws drop.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, "only our estate has a forest, remember."

Cedric nodded.

"I used to play down there when I was your age, Mycroft would have to follow me everywhere." Sherlock continued, "I used to climb the trees."

"Is that why you can climb buildings so fast?" Cedric yawned resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Perhaps." Sherlock muttered, "Next time Mycroft forces us there I will show you hm?"

"Okay..." Cedric yawned again.

Finally the boys eyes fluttered closed and it only took a few more seconds for his breathing to even out. Gently, Sherlock placed him on the couch and lightly threw his coat over him as a blanket.

"Right, John, you're turn for watch isn't it?"

* * *

**This scene was inspired by the first episode of Parade's End which Benedict Cumberbatch stars in :) **

**It was inspired by the scene where Christopher (Benedict) talks to his son after he has a nightmare near the start of the episode. **


	17. Chapter 17: Brick

"Well, that went well." Sherlock grinned smugly as Lestrade began reading the murderer his rights.

"I still can't believe you used your own wife as bait." Sally sneered.

"Oh I don't mind." Mira winked, "It was fun!"

Sherlock and Joh shared a look.

"Are you ever going to tell them?" John chuckled.

"They can figure it out like Lestrade did." Sherlock smirked, "Well, maybe not Anderson."

The case had been fairly simple, the man had accidentally killed his brother ad tried to cover it up. He was barely twenty, just a kid really, a frightened kid.

"Oi!"

Lestrade's voice rung out as the man bolted, obviously Donovan hadn't locked the cuffs properly. The young man ran straight across the street and down an alleyway, for once John wished the kids were here, they could track faster than he could.

"Come on then John!" Sherlock yelled running after him, Mira laughing just ahead.

How that woman ran in heels like that was beyond the doctor. It took several minutes of running before John turned into an alley to see the man backed up against the wall. The alley was thin and filled with old garbage cans and could use some seriosu fixing up. The back wall had several loose bricks.

"Well, that was entertaining but a repeat would be rather tedious." Sherlock smiled, "I believe I hear the police coming to collect you anyway."

"Again." John sighed.

"This is all that bitches fault!" The man yelled in frustration pointing at Mira.

"Language." Lestrade scolded as he entered the alley, clearly out of breath.

He jingled a air of handcuffs in the air and headed for the criminal who in John's professional opinion was getting a tad manic. In a way he felt sorry for him, his kill had been an accident and he was hiding it. Now he'd been caught he was panicking.

"No! I am not rotting away in jail!" he screamed.

The man grabbed on of the loose bricks and began to swing it around in an effort to keep Lestrade at bay. While he was distracted Mira dove forwards, kicking him hard in the stomach with her heel then the word seemed to speed up.

The kick made Mira turn, he back was to the man for a single second, but it was long enough for him to ram at her, sending the woman flying across the thin alley and into the loose brick wall. John winced as he heard her skull crack against the brick. She went down fast and hard and before anybody could act Mira was laying on the ground, staring upwards with half closed, sightless eyes.

Everybody froze for a moment and then there was chaos.

"God...you've killed her!" Lestrade yelled looking furious.

While for once Sherlock was silent, looking ashen for a few tense seconds before diving to the ground and gathering the woman up in his arms. The man stood still looking distraught at the the detective holding Mira's body.

"I...I didn't..."

This gave John and Lestrade time to tackle him to the ground and cuff him, making sure they were on very tightly.

"Gods Sherlock, I'm sorry." Lestrade muttered.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, wait he sounded like he was happy...

Mira sat up on her own, holding her head in one hand, smirk on her face.

"What?" John breathed.

"I knew that would shock him enough for you to grab him before his threw that brick at somebody and broke a skull." Mira chuckled.

"I could tell she was faking from the beginning naturally." Sherlock chuckled helping her up, "Though the hit to the head was real, might want to look her over John."

"Which John?" Mira blinked, "Wait, since when are there two of you..."

"Hmmm, maybe she hit her head a little harder than we thought." Sherlock muttered.

"Get her to a hospital." Lestrade growled, "And if you two ever play that trick again I'll arrest you!"

"On what charges?" Sherlock scoffed.

"John, why is Sherlock growing another head?" Mira asked sleepily.

...

"She'll be fine, but the doctors are keeping her over night for observation." John told Lestrade happily.

"Oh good." the detective grinned, "Se really worried me with that trick of hers."

"Let's hope they don't do it again." John added.

Donovan and Dimmock looked on, annoyed they both had to be there, but they couldn't leave until Lestrade relieved them. Not like a certain detective who had disappeared to go conduct experiments in the labs.

"It's sick, his wife is injured and he's going off to play with blood cultures." Donovan complained, "How the hell he even landed a woman is beyond me."

"You've got me there." Dimmock sighed, he didn't usually join in on the Sherlock bashing, that was more Anderson's area but the man did baffle him.

"Let's go get a coffee or something." Donovan replied, "We can walk past her room on the way, make sure she's not being ignored to death."

"I didn't know you cared." Dimmock retorted dryly as they walked.

"I don't, I just want to see. Not talk to her or anything I can't stand the woman." Donovan shuddered, though it was only because of Sherlock.

The wards were quiet at this time, most of the patients were asleep and those her were awake were only reading. The two headed for the small coffee shop on the first floor but stopped when they heard a familiar voice coming from behind the privacy curtain of a hospital bed.

"Sherlock really, stop it."

It was Mira.

Curiosity getting the better of them the two peaked through the crack where the two curtains met. Mira was sitting in bed while Sherlock sat on the visitors chair holding her hand with both of his.

"I thought you'd figure it out I swear." Mira sighed.

"I did, just not right away." Sherlock replied, his voice seemed slightly strained.

"I'm sorry."

"You weren't moving, you're eyes were so still I thought...I thought..."

"I'm fine, well almost fine." Mira joked, Sherlock struck her a look.

"You should be more careful, you're not trained to fight like John." Sherlock said sternly.

"People would think we really are married with you acting this way." Mira chuckled, the hidden police workers felt their jaws drop.

"People do." Sherlock joked back, "Then again, their idiots, even Lestrade figured it out after a few months."

"Well the cats out of the bag now." Mira sighed, "I believe that's Dimmock and Sally behind the curtain."

Sherlock dropped her hand and stood up straight so fast it was almost comical. Donovan and Dimmock legged it, if the conversation continued after that they heard no more. But they were left wondering about the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes for many days to follow.

* * *

**Just so you all know I've always put Mira's relationship with Sherlock as stronger than Lestrade's but not as strong as John's. **


	18. Chapter 18: Showtime

**Joseph - 16**

**Nina - 6**

**Emily - 13**

**Mason - 8**

**Riley - 10**

**Clara - 5**

**Natty - 9**

**Halie - 14**

**Marie - 8**

**Dan - 12**

**Ricky - 13**

**Lisa - 7**

**Carlo - 11**

**Mikey - 9**

**Cedric – 3**

"Hello." Dan answered the knock at their door, a woman with her hair in a neat bun was standing there, hand clasped together over a clipboard. Dan knew a social worker when he saw one.

"Hello there," She smiled, the cold fake smile they all wore.

"My name is Mrs. Kyle." She said after Dan didn't reply, "I'm just following up on some reports."

"Reports…" Dan said slowly.

"People say that there are children living here unsupervised." Mrs. Kyle peered past him.

"Sorry, our parents are out right now," He lied quickly before adding, "At the shops."

"Oh, perhaps I could wait for them?" She offered, Dan needed to get rid of her now!

"Uh, no sorry. My dad says never to let people I don't know in the house. Even if they say they are important or police or something." He piped up, that would get Sherlock some brownie points.

Mrs. Kyle opened her mouth to say something more but Dan promptly shut the door in her face.

"You'll have to come back later, if you really are a social worker that is." He called through the door.

Of course she was a real social worker he'd deduced it in seconds but he needed to warn the others. They needed time.

"Alright, I'll come by tomorrow." She sighed and then was gone.

Sighing in relief Dan ran to gather the others.

They lived happily in 222 Baker Street, Sherlock got them food, they were safe and cared for, Sherlock educated them and they had a loving environment. However all of it was a little unorthodox. Technically they did live without a guardian in their home and Sherlock let them play with blood, bones and human innards. A social worker would whisk them away faster than you could say "Gladstone".

Speaking of which…

…

As expected, Sherlock predicted the exact time Mrs. Kyle would arrive for her inspection, several pairs of eyes watched from the second level as she walked toward the door.

"Alright." Sherlock nodded slipping a gold band over his ring finger, "Showtime!"

Joe answered the door politely with Mira at his side, letting Mrs. Kyle in and leading her to the main lounge, which was now experiment free.

"So, according to my reports you have a substantial number of children Mrs.…"

"Holmes." Mira lied easily, "And yes, there is fourteen of them total."

"All adopted?" Mrs. Kyle scribbled something on her clipboard.

"Yes, I am not able to have children myself." Mira sighed, actually looking hurt.

"Mummy?" Cedric entered right on cue, peaking through the door.

"Here darling," Mira called.

"Who's this?" Cedric asked.

"She's a social worker." Joe answered.

"Joe, take your brother upstairs and play with the others?" Mira offered, "I think it's time for your lessons."

"Lessons?" Mrs. Kyle questioned.

"Their father, Sherlock, is a genius you see. He schools them himself." Mira explained.

"Every day? They get the right amount of education right?" Mrs. Kyle began to scribble again.

"Oh yes." Mira lied, "Every day, same time."

"May I please observe this?'

"Of course."

Joe and Mira grinned at each other when the social workers back was turned.

Mrs. Kyle continued upstairs to the second lounge where Sherlock was standing with a small whiteboard going through basic science with the youngest children. Namely, the life cycle of the frog.

"What about the older children?" Mrs. Kyle's brow knitted together, "You can't teaching children of three the same thing as those who should be in high school!"

"We're reading Hamlet." Halie explaining holding up the book, which even little Marie had read years ago.

"Daddy, I thought only birds laid eggs." Clara asked feigning ignorance. Little did Mrs. Kyle know that just yesterday Clara had dissected a frog along with its spawn.

"No, see some other animals lay eggs as well, but not the kind you eat." Sherlock explained very slowly, it was almost impossible not to laugh.

"Don't people eat fish eggs though?" Natty piped up, "It's fancy its called cavi…caver…cava…"

"Caviar?" Sherlock offered.

"Yeah that's it!" She grinned.

"Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Kyle interrupted, "Don't you live next door?"

"No, I work there." Sherlock lied, "As a consultant to the police I have many experiments and police evidence I can't have children seeing."

"So, 221b is your office?" She questioned.

"In a way, my friend and partner lives there." Sherlock replied.

Mrs. Kyle had to admit she was impressed, all these children were happy and healthy, this home was loving enough. The reports on Mr. Holmes had made it seem so much worse; it must have been some kind of misunderstanding. Though, they were not the brightest of children she had to admit.

Little did she know the less than a minute after her departure a certain family was back in 221b, dissecting a human foot.

* * *

**Sorry this is more than a bit crap. If anybody has suggestions I'm always open!**


	19. Chapter 19: the Dying Detective

Dan was beginning to get worried, John had left for a medical conference in Dublin five days ago and things had been going down hill. Sherlock had seemed alright at first, taking a case of suspected murder. A man had been found dead of a mysteriously rare disease down in the darker parts of town, where Mikey had been born.

He'd been busy of course and soon had a suspect, the victim's uncle Culverton Smith. Declaring the case too risky, the Irregulars decided to stay at home, reading and studying while their father worked, if he really needed help Lestrade would come. However for the past three days there had been no violin wafting through the walls, nor were there any sounds of explosions or experiments. None of the Irregulars had seen their father.

Finally, Dan ventured over to 221b with Marie and Nina at his side. They found the kitchen and lounge abandoned. No sign of Sherlock anywhere.

"Daddy?" Nina called, "Daaaad."

"He can't be asleep." Marie spoke up, "He never sleeps on a case…"

Dan nodded but headed for their fathers room anywhere, surprised to find that Sherlock was indeed in bed. Oh he'll be cross with himself when he finds out he nodded off, better wake him up.

Dan flicked on the light and gasped. Sherlock looked awful, his skin was pale and waxy and his hair was greasy, sticking to his sweaty brow. He looked even thinner than normal, the bones in his face stuck out like they did on his skull.

"Dad!" Dan yelled in horror, Sherlock blinked awake, quickly shuffling away from the boy.

"You stay back." He croaked, "This is highly contagious!"

"We need to call John!" Marie exclaimed, "He needs to come home and care for you!"

"John is only a general practitioner." Sherlock spat, "He can do nothing for me."

Delirious. That was the only explanation. Sherlock would never belittle John in such a harsh manner. Sure he'd call him an idiot but even the simplest of minds knew the detective respected John's medical knowledge.

"Well then we will help you." Marie replied with determination.

"No!" Sherlock cried, "You will stay away, this disease is contagious and very deadly."

"Deadly?" Marie paled.

"Yes, causing or able to cause death." Sherlock rambled, "D-e-a-d-"

"Oh god he's quoting the dictionary." Marie groaned as Sherlock proceeded to spell Deadly, Dead, Died and Dying for them.

"There must be something we can do." Dan mused.

"Culverton Smith!" Sherlock yelled.

"Wha-"

"He's an expert on this disease, I believe his nephew died of it as well." Sherlock continued, "You should bring him here! He can save me!"

Sherlock Holmes begging for mercy.

"Alright." Dan nodded, "Come on girls."

"Make sure you return alone!" Sherlock continued to ramble, "Do not come back with Smith, you must be faster than him! Run! RUN!"

…

After making sure the girls headed home where it was safe, Dan grabbed his fathers notes and quickly discovered Smith's place of residence. Now he just had to convince him to come and help his father.

As he ran across the streets and through the crowds he glanced over a few other notes. The disease was from Sumatra, a place of which Culverton often travelled. He was an expert in tropical diseases

It took him a half an hour to reach Lowe Street where Smith lived. Banging on the door hard despite the fact that he was practically out of breath. A tall thin man opened the door, he reminded the boy of Anderson, greasy hair slicked back against his skull with beady eyes.

"Yes?" The man drawled.

"My…names...Dan Holmes." Dan panted, "My father…he's ill."

"Ah yes, the detective who's been running my good name through the mud." He sneered, "His friend Watson is a doctor is he not? Send him."

"Uncle John is away." Dan pleaded, "He's been asking for you specifically."

"Really?" The man raised his eyebrows looking smug; "Perhaps I can look past his actions if it means that much to you."

"Oh thank you." Dan sighed in relief.

"Come then, we shall get a cab." Smith offered.

Dan remembered Sherlock's advice about beating the man back to the flat. He knew it was probably just feverish ramblings but he couldn't take that risk.

"I have to go meet my mother.' He lied smoothly, "You will have to see him alone."

"Very well." Smith seemed pleased through he tried to hide it.

Dan took off again, this time taking the rooftops and side alleys. Hopefully he'd get back before Smith, just to be sure he jumped on the back of a moving cab and rode it for a few blocks before the driver noticed him.

He arrived back at Baker Street within a few minutes this time, again out of breath. He made his way over to Sherlock who was huddled under the blankets, staring at him with feverish eyes.

"I got him dad, he'll be here any minute." Dan sighed, "You'll be fine."

"Do you hear it?" Sherlock asked quietly, Dan strained his ears, the sound of feet on the stairs.

"It must be-"

"Hide!" Sherlock hissed.

"What?" Dan asked bewildered by the reqest.

"Wuick in the cupboard!" Sherlock insisted, "Do not come out no matter what you hear, understand?"

"But-"

"Quick if you love me!" Sherlock whispered.

How was he supposed to argue that?

Dan barely had time to close the door behind him when Smith waltzed into the room. The boy watched through a tiny crack in the doorway, he could see Smith and he could see Sherlock laying on the bed.

"Smith, I barely hoped…" Sherlock wheezed, sounding much worse all of a sudden.

"You're son was most insistent." Smith replied, "You know what ails you?"

"The Sumatran disease." Sherlock coughed, "I must of caught it from the body of your nephew."

"Are you sure?" Smith was smiling, Sherlock looked confused.

"Where else could it of come from…" He muttered.

"Do you recall getting anything in the mail?" Smith asked.

What a question to ask now of all times!

"No." Sherlock shook his head slowly.

"Think man! That's what you do isn't it?" Smith jibed. It took all of Dans restraint not to throttle him.

"Wait, that box…loading with the spring filled with tea leaves…" Sherlock rambled, "I cut myself on it, the spring…it was sharp…"

"And infected."

That snake! Dan felt like screaming.

"Ah." Sherlock sighed, "I was right then, you killed your nephew."

"Of course." Smith grinned, "And now I've killed you. The great Sherlock Holmes and the only person who could of caught me."

"The window…" Sherlock muttered, "Open it, the shadows are lengthening."

"Yes that's to be expected, my nephew didn't make it this long." Smith mused, "I doubt you'll be breathing in an hour."

No!

Dan covered his mouth to stop himself from breathing to loudly in his panic.

Smith threw open the windows.

"Ah, that is much better." Sherlock replied, his voice clear and free of wheezing unlike a few seconds ago.

To Dan's great joy he watched as Sherlock stood, stretching and smiling. He reached for a cloth on the table close by and with ease whipped his face. Now one side still looked sickly and terrible but the other was clear. Make up.

"I have many enemies Smith, I am always careful handling my mail." Sherlock grinned. Smith scoffed.

"It is your word against mine." Smith argued, "We're simply back to where we started."

"I think not, Dan, come out here please."

Dan stepped out of the cupboard grinning.

"I heard everything." He nodded, "I'm witness."

"Two against one." Sherlock smiled, "Also, the police are on their way up. You opening my window was signal for them to join us from their hiding place across the street."

Smith yelled in rage and frustration while Dan and Sherlock smirked. Only Sherlock would fake a life threatening disease in order to catch a criminal and stop being bored.


	20. Chapter 20: Vampire AU

**Vampire AU**

**Because they are my guilty pleasure!**

It was luck really, that John had heard the sound at all. A quiet sobbing and sniffling echoing out of a grate hidden within the alley just off to the right. He'd been using the alley as a short cut back to the surgery where he worked after lunch break when he'd stopped to study the sound.

It sounded like a child, crying.

It took him a minute to track the sound to a large grate that lead down to the sewer, without thinking he heaved it open and squeezed himself through with a little difficulty. The sniffling stopped when he landed in the shallow water.

"Hello?" He called, "Are you stuck?"

A quiet sob echoed down the tunnel. Quickly John reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, sheathing the tunnel in a small amount of light. There was a small body curled up on itself, sitting at the edge of the water. The body turned, the hood that had been covering the child's face fell off and John gasped.

The eyes were brilliant green, while the hair looked as if it were on fire it was so red. The child looked as if somebody had taken a photography and edited out any possible imperfections and enhanced the features.

A vampire child.

John knew about vampires of course, they had reveled themselves a few hundred years ago. Though they were still very private, staying in their large mansion like homes in the day and venturing out at night. Ever since the invention of synthetic blood capsules humans and vampires got on well. Donors often came to the clinic to sell pints of blood which were delivered to various vampire families. The synthetic blood satisfied, but the vampires were always happy for fresh blood meal.

Vampire children were a rare sight, they were never unaccompanied and they never spoke. Their faces were hidden behind hoods and dark coats. John wasn't sure why, he'd never really gotten close to any vampires.

The girl was holding her arm, it was red and burnt like a sun burn. That explained why she was hiding down here. Vampires didn't burst into flames and dust at sunlight but it was uncomfortable for them. Like standing too close to a fire, after a few minutes the skin would become red and an hour was enough for it to begin to blister and burn terribly.

"Did you get caught in the sun?" John sighed, "Here, I'll help you. I'm John."

"Clara." The girl sniffled.

She stood, revealing her large black coat the covered her save hands and face.

"Here." John offered her his coat, "Put this over your face and keep your hands in your pockets."

gently he lifted Clara out of the sewer and into the alley, the shadows were deep but there was no way he could take her out onto the street. So instead he dialed his mate Lestrade. He was a police officer.

"Lestrade it's John. I've found a vampire child out on the streets." John explained.

"Shit, how'd a vampire kid end up in the middle of London at mid day?" Lestrade replied, "I'll send you a car with tinted windows."

"Thanks mate." John sighed, hanging up and turning his attention to Clara.

"So, where do you live?" He asked kindly, the girl seemed very nervous being outside, despite the fact that she was hidden under all the clothes and John's jumper.

"Holmes Manor." She replied.

Holmes? As if the most powerful and ancient vampire family in England? Run by Mycroft Holmes, one of the worlds most powerful politicians?

"I didn't know the Holmes's had fledglings." He admitted.

"I'm almost fifty, I'm hardly a fledgling." Clara pouted, christ this child was older than he was.

"You look good for your age." John joked, "I'm only forty."

"I'm the equivalent of a five year old human." Clara admitted, clearly enjoying being the smartest person around for once.

"Why are you in the city?" John asked finally, "I didn't even know vampire children left their homes alone."

"We don't leave the manor much." Clara admitted, "Father doesn't like it when we go off on our own."

"So why are you here?" John asked again.

"I had a fight with my father." Clara muttered, "I ran off, but then the sun started coming up."

The car with tinted windows arrived and John postponed asking the girl any more questions in favoring of helping her side without catching any skin.

The ride was quick and silent, within no time they were pulling up at the manor. It was huge and threatening with heavy curtains covered the windows.

"Come inside." Clara smiled, "I'm sure father will want to thank you."

John would admit he was nervous as the little girl stepped out of the car and lead him inside. Once inside the dank rooms she sighed and quickly took off the heavy coat revealing normal clothes. He was shocked to find several pairs of eyes staring down at him from the banister, he counted fourteen in all ranging from fledglings that couldn't be more than thirty to almost mature vampires. Vampires were fully grown at around 18000-2000 years, it always amazed John how when ever he saw a vampire looking his age that they would have to be nearly 4000 years old.

"Clara!" A deep voice echoed through the house.

A tall, mature vampire appeared from the shadows and suddenly swept forward and scooped the little girl up. John was barely able to see the action, vampire speed and all.

The man was tall and naturally pale with dark hair and very sharp grey eyes. He must of been at least 2000 years old if John was a good judge of vampire age. The man placed Clara down and then turned to the doctor. John suddenly realized he was pretty much a walking buffet here.

The tall man leapt for him and John closed his eyes ready to be knocked over but the hit never came, he opened his eyes to see the man holding back the smallest child. Who was snapping at him with a look of annoyance.

"Please excuse Cedric, he's going through the terrible 20's." The man drawled, "Hasn't quite learnt to control himself around humans when he is hungry yet."

The boy gurgled.

"Joseph. Take your brother outside please and get him a blood pack." The man drawled.

The tallest child came and took the small one out of the room, the man then turned to John.

"Thank you for bringing Clara home, I was beginning to get concerned for her out in this sunlight. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson." John replied hesitantly shaking the vampires hand, "So, these are all your children? I didn't even know the Holmes Clan had fledglings."

"I have little to do so my brother gave me the duty of teaching and being primary care giver to all the clans fledglings." Sherlock replied, "I have grown somewhat fond of them. Speaking of which, don't you all have lessons to attend to?"

"Yes father." The children replied before disappearing down the shadowy halls.

"They are well behaved." John noted, "You can't be half bad as a teacher."

"Vampire children have a completely different set of skills to learn." Sherlock sighed, "Obedience is never much of an issue, control is more difficult."

"Right." John chewed his lip, "Well I'd better get going."

"Yes, your scent as agitated the children somewhat, I can sense their distress." Sherlock drawled, "Best you leave before another one of their control breaks and you end up sporting a set of fang marks."

John swallowed nervously, he swore he heard Sherlock chuckle.

Quickly the doctor ducked out the door, surprised to see Sherlock standing just inside the threshold, safe from the sun.

"Should you ever need anything, this door is open for you."

* * *

**I have 20 hours worth of flights and a laptop :P Fanfiction it is! **

**Japan was amazing!**


	21. Chapter 21: Siger

Sherlock rarely thought about his father, Siger, these days. He'd run away at eight, finally sick of the abuse at his hand and the cold shoulder from Mycroft. He hadn't had any contact with his family for years, it was only when he was in his early twenties that Mycroft's men managed to capture him and force him into rehab. Not that it had worked until Mira had forced him again.

Despite Mycroft's cold exterior Sherlock knew his brother cared from him and was deeply sorry for ignoring his younger brother's pleas when they were younger. Not that it was ever said in so many words. Sherlock never forgave him though, he allowed him in his life but that was it, they stopped being true brothers a long time ago, but he was still family.

His father on the other hand he had not seen since he left home, nor did he want to. He could of died for all he cared. He was sure Mycroft knew but he didn't dare ask, deep down he still held fear in his heart of the man.

So when he turned up at 221b Baker Street Sherlock was more than a little surprised.

…

It had been a fairly quiet day, John and Mira were currently engaged in a very intense game of spoons with Joe and Halie while Sherlock taught Cedric and Marie more elements. Cedric was currently twisting a strip of magnesium around making a coil to burn, while Sherlock explained why it made such a bright light and how to identify the remnants of it when the door opened.

He looked as he remembered him, tall, well muscled, but his dark hair was shorter and greying at the sides. The one thing was exactly the same was the eyes, pale sky blue and cold as ice.

Sherlock felt his own eyes widen, Cedric and Marie seemed to sense the fear in the air because they immediately stepped behind their father and peaked out from behind him.

"Sherlock."

"Father."

The greeting was cool and as soon as the word left Sherlock's mouth John and Mira were on their feet, making sure the two older children were behind them. Sherlock could see the children flicking their eyes at one another, he'd never told them about his own childhood in great detail but he taught them well, they were not stupid.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked, his voice was level, calm, slightly disinterested and completely fake.

"Mycroft gave me you're address." His father replied, "It's been over two decades since I've seen you I figured it was time to check in."

"The first part I believe the second part not so much." Sherlock drawled.

"Daddy, who's this?" Marie asked using her most innocent voice.

Sherlock resisted the urge to give a satisfied smirk when his father's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Daddy?" He chuckled with a mocking tone taking a step forward, Sherlock resisted the part of his brain that told him to step backwards and leave as much space between them as he could.

"I'm sorry but is there a reason why you are here?" John asked coolly. Good old John! He always knew when to step in.

"Honestly I came to see if Sherlock would stop this consulting business of his." He sighed, "It's an embarrassment to the family, almost as much as he is."

"Don't talk about our father that way!" Joe barked, John held him back.

"Mind your place!" Siger snarled.

"You mind yours." Mira bit back, "This is your sons home, not yours."

"By the time I was half his age I'd made a name for myself, a proper one. And I certainly wasn't living in a flat."

"Perhaps it is too hard to believe that I enjoy living here?" Sherlock replied, failing to keep the heat out of his voice.

Wisely, Marie and Cedric made their way over to Mira, out of the line of fire.

"I'm not going to stop my work." Sherlock added, crossing his arms over his chest trying to appear calm when really his heart was beating a million miles an hour. This was ludicrous! Why was he afraid of this man still?

"It's an embarrassment to the family name!"

"No! You are!" Marie yelled.

You could hear a pin drop.

"He is brilliant and everybody thinks so." Marie continued walking forward, "He saves lives and solves crimes that nobody else could without even batting an eyelash. He is ten times the man you will ever be."

Sherlock felt a very large amount of pride swell in his chest. He wondered where Marie had learnt such courage.

"You little brat!" Siger yelled balling up his fists, "How dare you speak to me that way!"

Sherlock saw what was happening before anybody else, from his own experience he knew what that look meant. Moving faster than he ever had he stepped between his father and Marie just in time to take the first that would of hit Marie otherwise.

"Must you always get in the way?" Siger growled.

That was it! The dam broke.

Sherlock was much faster than his father and in seconds he was on the floor holding his nose.

"You-!"

"Shut up!" Sherlock cut in, "Shut up and leave!"

"How dare you-"

"Don't you ever, ever, threaten one of my children!" Sherlock growled, "Don't you ever come near them!"

John gave an approving nod.

"I believe it is time you left." The doctor added cracking his knuckles.

Grumbling Siger picked himself off the floor and left, for a few seconds everything was silent before Sherlock broke it with an audible sigh of relief.

John quickly began examining his side for a bruise where the first had connected while Cedric ran to the window and pulled it open.

"And don't come back!"

* * *

**This was suggested by a reader but unfortunately I cleaned out my inbox and I cant remember their name! . If you could please tell me though a message that would be great so I can credit you.**

**Three more pieces of fanart for this story on devintArt! All by Retsin, look her up!**


	22. Chapter 22: Silence

Once a year the Irregulars stop talking. For a full 24 hours not a single sound passes their lips, not words, sounds or even a single sigh. That day is always unnerving.

Selective mutism is John's diagnosis, though it becomes clear that were there an emergency they would speak. They simply choose not to. At first Sherlock thought it would be a one off, he couldn't blame them after all but the next year it continued.

The anniversary of Sam's death was hard on all of them, Sherlock never worked on it, he didn't eat or drink either. He spoke very little and spent the day simple looking out windows or playing his violin. With enough effort John could force words out of him, but not the Irregulars.

Even Clara and Cedric who had no memory of the dark haired boy joined their siblings in the silent crusade. They would go about their usual business, experiments, games and various other tasks; they simply didn't talk whilst doing them.

At first John had been worried but eventually he let them be. It was their way of coping and it only lasted a day.

"Morning Sherlock." John called, not knowing whether he'd get a reply. Last anniversary he'd gotten only the most basic words out of the man.

"John." Sherlock replied not turning away from the window.

"Do you want tea?"

No reply.

John made him tea anyway.

There were no lessons today, no cases. Today would pass slowly.

Knowing the Irregulars would not of made breakfast for themselves, the doctor headed over to 222. As expected he was met with rare silence. He headed into the main flats kitchen; a few of the Irregulars were up, just sitting around in their silence.

"Morning Joe, do you want me to cook some breakfast for you guys?"

He knew he wouldn't get a reply but he wouldn't stop trying.

Joe nodded and shot him a small smile.

John cooked them a large pit of scrambled eggs, on any other day they would of devoured the food with gusto and then demanded more. Today they just picked at it.

John felt a hand fisting into the back of his jumped, he turned and saw Riley staring up at him with wet eyes. Riley and Sam had been the best of friends, he'd taken his loss especially hard. John wrapped his arms around the boy and let him sob silently. He wasn't sure how long it lasted.

When he was done crying Riley turned and flopped down on the couch, mirroring Sherlock's 'thinking pose'.

John sighed, it was a hard day of the year.

Somebody had to look after them though.

And it may as well be him.

* * *

**I dedicate this short chapter to my three brothers Eliot, Kenneth and Ben who died in a car crash earlier this year. R.I.P guys. You're brothers and sister miss you!**

**Sam too! :)**


	23. Chapter 23: Dive on in

**Natty – 11**

"What do you mean I'm going swimming?" Natty demanded.

They were standing by the edge of the pool at the sports centre, it was a quiet day and Sherlock, John and the Irregulars were the only ones there. All of the others had happily jumped into the pool and were splashing about and having a great time. Natty on the other hand was curled up in the corner, still in her shorts and shirt.

"I can't swim." She pouted, "I'm not going in."

"Natty, this is illogical. Being able to swim is vital." Sherlock argued, "What if you are doing recon by the river or if you are needed on a boat."

"Then send one of them." Natty pointed at the group in the pool.

"Come on Natty, it's easy." John promised, "The earlier you start the easier it will be."

Natty shook her head and curled into a tighter ball against the wall.

"Come on Natty." Riley smiled as he jumped out of the water, still dripping, "It's easy, you can do it."

"No. I'll sink." She argued.

"Natty if I have to I will throw you in that pool." John teased.

Sherlock sighed and dragged Natty to her feet and gently pushed her down to the shallow end of the pool.

"The water here wont even go over your head." Sherlock informed her, "Just get in. John will teach you how and then you can go a little deeper."

"I don't want to go deeper, I want to stay out of the water all together!" Natty squeaked trying to cling to Sherlock but the man pried her off.

"Relax, there is nothing to be afraid of."

"Except drowning."

"Well if you learn to swim you wont drown will you?"

Natty grumbled but slowly climbed down the ladder into the pool, still in her clothes.

John jumped in and showed her how to move her arms and lags, dragging her on her back through the water a bit but whenever he'd let go Natty would squeal and grab onto him. Naturally she got all the movement right, she understood how her legs and arms should propel her through the water and how each movement kept her above it but each time she tried on her own she ended up spluttering and coughing up chlorine.

Natty if you believe you're going to sink you will." John sighed, "You have to trust yourself."

Natty bit her lip. She trusted her father, she trusted her brothers and sisters and her father but herself? Trusting herself was hard, if things go wrong there would only be her to blame. That and in this situation, she might drown.

Sighing sadly she sat at the edge of the pool and watched as Halie dove into the deep end and swam all the way to the other side without coming up for breath. Sherlock was sitting by the edge with his feet in the water, he wasn't a big recreational swimmer, she knew the only reason he was here was because he wanted to see her learn.

Taking a deep breath she recalled all the information she had taken in, she knew how to dive, she knew how to move her body and hold her breath so putting it into practice couldn't be that hard right? All she had to do was stop doubting herself.

Without being seen she moved to the deep end and looked down at the swirling water nervously.

_Just do it! _She urged herself.

"Natty?" She heard Sherlock speak up, "Natty!"

She jumped, she couldn't bring herself to dive but she jumped and suddenly she was underwater surrounded by blue.

Fighting the urge to scream and risk loosing her air she squeezed her eyes closed and kicked and pulled upwards with her hands and moved forwards and up. Naturally she knew it only took a few seconds for her to reach the top but it felt so much longer

She burst through the surface of the water and took a deep breath before laughing deliriously. She'd done it!

"Natty you're swimming!" Lisa smiled.

Swimming? As if present tense? Didn't she mean swam?

Oh wait.

Shocked she looked down to see that she was indeed treading water still, she hadn't even noticed. She shot her father a smile.

"Pay up John, I told you she'd get it within the hour." Sherlock grinned, rolling his eyes John handed him a tenner.

Natty laughed.

* * *

**I just realised I should probably teach Natty to swim XD**

**Thank you for all those who said you are sorry for my loss but I didn't put it there for pity. I still have my brother and sisters living :) I just wanted to dedicate the last chapter is all. So don't feel you need to say you're sorry for me. But thank you to those who did.**


	24. Chapter 24: Daddy's Little Girl

Halie - 19

Sherlock was nervous and he had no idea why. His heart rate was up slightly, he was fidgeting and he had this strange tickling feeling in his stomach. Perhaps this is what John meant by the 'butterflies' in ones stomach. He found the metaphor surprisingly accurate for once.

Unable to sit still any longer Sherlock got to his feet and paced.

"Are you alright dad?" Halie asked.

She was standing in the doorway with her large backpack on and small suitcase. Enough luggage for a weeks trip at least. Sherlock ignored the question.

"Have you got everything?" He asked instead.

"Microscope, magnifying glass, print dust, everything but the kitchen sink." Halie grinned.

Sherlock bit his lip.

"Are you sure you can take this case on your own?" He asked for the third time in the last two days, "Perhaps you should get Joe to go with you at least."

"Daaad, I can handle it." Halie insisted, "You know I can, besides I've never been to America before."

"Exactly!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Any number of things could go wrong!"

"There isn't even a language barrier." Halie sighed, "Really I'll be just fine, it's only art theft."

"And that case I took years ago with the Chinese smugglers was a 'simple' breaking and entering case." Sherlock argued, "John ended up kidnapped!"

"I promise at the first sign of trouble I'll call." She insisted.

"You'll be calling anyway."

Halie chuckled, Sherlock turned away and continued to pace. She knew if she failed to call at least once a day Sherlock would have John with him on the first plane to New York. It was the first time Sherlock was allowing her to take a case all on her own, well 'allowing' may not be the correct word. Convinced perhaps was more appropriate.

"Are you sure you don't want John or I to come with you?" Sherlock tried again, "We've done over seas cases before, things work differently in America, many more people have guns and-"

"I can do it Dad. How am I supposed to grow up if you keep coddling me back here with 'baby's first case' jobs that take a half hour to solve." Halie whined, "I'm not a little girl anymore, I never really was anyway."

Sherlock glared at his window at that.

"Do you regret it then?" He asked somewhat bitterly.

She was right of course, none of the Irregulars had ever really been children, they grew up alongside murders and slicing up cadavers in their spare time. When society dictates they should of been going to school and playing soccer on the weekends.

"What? Spending my Saturdays running across rooftops and learning kung fu instead of going on dates?" Halie questioned, "Of course not, best childhood ever. Period."

That made Sherlock's lip quirk. Shaking her head fondly the young woman wrapped the detective in a hug which he swiftly returned, grateful nobody else was in the flat at the moment.

"I'll be just fine." Halie promised.

"You'd better be." Sherlock whispered before releasing her from the hug.

"I expect you back by next Thursday, if you're not-"

"You'll come and get me."

"And if you miss your flight or anything else goes wrong-"

"Call you or John, I know I know."

Halie laughed.

"Now, I have to go before my plane leaves without me." She sighed, "Take care, I'll see you next Thursday. Promise."

* * *

**Thought I'd do a little one-shot about the kids growing up. Inspired by that song "Get ready, get set, don't go."**

**Also, exciting news THERE IS NOW A VIDEO ABOUTTHE IRREGULARS ON YOUTUBE! Yay! **

**It's called BBC Sherlock | The Irregulars by Ulura lola.**

**Also for those who are asking about the chapter when they all find out the Irregulars are adopted, I'm working on it. I want it to be really funny but so far all the drafts are pretty average, so I'm waiting till I get it right.**


	25. Chapter 25: Shot

Donovan really didn't see what Sherlock and John liked about these chases, racing through sheets of heavy rain and through the puddles after a man whom she would probably loose soon anyway. Never mind that though, shed keep going until she couldn't any longer, though she did wish she had a little back up. Holmes and Watson were nowhere to be seen for once.

'This guy is so high' she thought dryly, it was the only explanation as to how a man so fat could keep running for so long.

She rounded the corner and at first she thought she'd lost him until she saw the large grate which had been shifted. Fantastic, now she was going to have to chase this man through the sewers.

She made her way over, ready to bend down and jump inside when there was a loud bang and a terrible pain shot through her side, causing her to fall limply to her knees and clutch at it. She'd been shot!

Quickly she turned to find the man she was chasing standing behind her, he'd hidden in the dumpster of all places and then he'd shot her! How dare he!

"Haven't you ever heard the saying?" He chuckled, "Most obvious answer is rarely the right one."

And then he was gone.

Sucking in a breath through her teeth she tried to stand but found the pain in her side too crippling, bloody hell. She prayed Lestrade or one of the other officers on the case would show up soon, hell, even Watson would be useful now.

She was distracted from her self pity when she heard a loud barking from the entrance to the ally. A monstrous dog with slightly shaggy fur and huge teeth was standing a few feet from her. A dog like that, it had to belong to some street thug right? Great no not only had she been shot, now she was going to be torn apart by a giant hound. Fantastic. What a way to go.

The dog barked more until a voice called out.

"Hey, I think Gladstone's found something."

Gladstone? Why did that name ring a bell?

The answer became obvious when a little boy and girl appeared in the alley entrance. It was two of Holmes's brats, what were their names? Marie and Mason?

"Holy hell! It's Donovan!" Marie gasped, "She's been shot!"

"Hey Donovan, can you hear me?" Mason bent down next to her and looked at her face.

"Yes." She hissed, "Now go find Lestrade!"

"Gladstone, find dad!" Mason ordered, the dog went bounding off.

"Don't worry he understands." Marie hushed, "He'll have the others coming in no time."

Then to the sergent's great surprise the young girl began to pull her hands away from the wound.

"I need to keep pressure-"

"I know, but your fingers allow for blood to slip through quite easily, especially because you are shaking and going into shock." Marie explained, there was no bitterness to the words, it was as if she were the adult and Sally was the child.

Quickly the boy unthreaded his scarf from around his neck and passed it to his sister who wrapped it around her palms and pressed them into the wound making Donovan hiss.

"No major organ's hit." Mason deduced, "You should be fine as long as we get you to a hospital quickly, you will probably need a transfusion."

Donovan was beginning to develop a headache but for once it wasn't the children's fault. It was odd having them speak so kindly to her when usually their only form of communication was insults and sharp looks.

"Why are you helping me?" She asked quickly, her voice came out much weaker than she'd hoped.

"We don't want you to die." Mason scoffed, "Just because you don't like us doesn't mean we want you bleeding out."

"It's strange seeing you so nice." Donovan admitted.

"We're only harsh because you make fun of our dad." Marie pouted, "He saved us, he cares for us, you you do nothing but belittle his work. All because he is different."

"So you hate me because of it?" She chuckled, which turned to a wince.

"We don't hate you, hating a person is illogical." Marie sighed, "We hate the way you act."

There were no more words exchanged for a while after that. Finally the sound of a deep howl filled the air.

"Gladstone." Mason smiled.

Seconds later the dog bounded into the alleyway and perched itself next to the boy. Sherlock shot around the corner seconds later, Donovan looked, really looked. His face was slightly frantic but once he'd laid eyes on both children and deduced both were unharmed he calmed.

"Lestrade call and ambulance. One of your officers has been shot." he yelled.

Donovan could hear the Inspector swearing as he dialled.

"Will she be okay dad?" Marie asked.

"Fine as long as you keep pressure on." Sherlock replied.

"I think she's passing out." Mason cut in, he was right.

"The ambulance will be here soon, let her rest if anything it will slow her heart rate and blood loss." Sherlock's voice echoed around in her head.

Just as Sally was about to pass out completely she heard the ambulance come and a single thought flew through her head.

What did Marie mean, Sherlock saved them?

* * *

**Donovan is getting there!**

**If any of you want to know what Gladstone looks like I made a picture of him on my DeviantArt account (Ulura). I find it funny how some people think Gladstone is book canon when really he was just made up for the RDJ films.**

**The Irregulars - Gladstone**

**I'm thinking about doing some more AU's, they are fun! :P What kind would you guys like to see? I'd love some suggestions, I can only think of pretty average stuff at the moment, werewolf, magic etc...**


	26. Chapter 26: The Discovery

All those on the force loved a good impromptu drugs bust at 221b. Hardly any of the officers who went were actually on the squad of course. As much as they hated Holmes they all knew he was clean. They just enjoyed tearing apart the flat. Once Anderson 'accidentally' knocked over all of the man's beakers, spilling somewhat questionable content all over the floor. Holmes had positively raged, calling the man every name under the sun.

As it happened they were just beginning one of the fun endeavours. The freak had been pinching cold case files from the cabinet and Lestrade wanted pay back. It had been months since Anderson or Donovan had anything quite so fun to do.

Anderson was once again being clumsy and knocking over as many experiments as he could in the kitchen while Sherlock yelled and two of his kids yelled with him. Apparently it was some sort of lesson, Sally gagged and moved to the bedroom.

The bedroom was empty for once; no doubt she could dig up some dirt on the freak here! She checked several draws and found nothing but impeccably folded clothing and a few cigarettes. Next she dove under the bed and smiled gleefully as she spotted a small wooden chest. Grinning evilly she flipped the lid but to her surprise there was nothing illicit or even embarrassing within in. Just a brown book with faded gold lining on the leather.

Curiously she flipped it open, a photo album. If you had asked Sally a few hours ago what she'd of thought Sherlock Holmes would keep pictures of she'd say bodies or crime scenes. Not family.

There were dozens upon dozens of photographs of John, Lestrade, Mira and the children. A few even featured a tall slightly portly man in a suit whom Sally had never met. She looked at a particular picture of Sherlock and the man, they were obviously arguing, Sherlock had his violin bow poking the man in the chest. There was a small caption written in a fountain pen underneath.

'Mycroft insists on visiting again'

Mycroft? What sort of name is that?

The one under that had a picture of a girl with black hair stretched out on the couch with her hands steepled under her chin.

'Halie takes a page out of Sherlock's book'

There were so many more, the kids doing experiments, playing games, a few of John and Sherlock together laughing. When she flipped to yet another page instead of photos she found folded documents in a plastic leaf pocket. Curiosity getting the better of her she grabbed them out and unfolded them.

Adoption papers.

Each one was for a different one of Sherlock's brats. Complete with pictures, signatures and dates. Of course, it made so much sense now. Sherlock Holmes wasn't married, all those children were adopted.

But why? Sherlock was always so cold and unfeeling. Why would he apply to adopt all these kids?

Adoption took time, sometimes years, to get this many children…surely a man who chased after criminals and beat corpses at the morgue could never pass all those tests.

"It's rude to snoop."

Sally nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice. She'd been so engrossed in her reading. The voices owner was Lisa. She was standing in the doorway, face completely blank.

"You're adopted." Sally blinked at her, "It makes so much more sense."

"Yes."

"How? Doing all this takes so much time!"

"He got preference." Lisa shrugged taking the papers from Donovan and carefully placing them back in the book.

"He saved us."

"Saved you? Sherlock Holmes?" Sally scoffed.

"When I was a child," Lisa began, not looking sally in the eye, "My mother would lock me in a room for days at a time, I nearly starved to death once. Sherlock found me, took me home. He gave me food and shelter when I needed it. He got me out of there."

Sally blinked in shock.

"All of us have a story like that. Natty's parents were murdered, Joe lived on the streets, Rickey's father left him to burn to death." Lisa continued, "Sherlock saved us, took care of us and gave us a choice, go to a children's home or stay with him. We stayed."

Vaguely Sally remembered a day in the science labs when Rickey had mentioned a biker gang whipping him.

"A lot of us were sick or injured." Lisa added cooly looking down at the woman sitting on the floor after placing the book on Sherlock's desk, "He nursed a lot of us back to full health. He cares for us, he teaches us. And here you are tearing apart our home, accusing our father of taking drugs, because our he wanted to help solve more crimes."

"And you call him heartless."

**I couldn't get a funny revel sorry, so I went with a sort of heart warming/stick it to them, sort of thing... hope it's okay!**


	27. Chapter 27: Katie Must Go

The Irregulars disliked Katie. They disliked her intensely. Katie was John's current girlfriend and they hated her. Immensely. John was always with her now, he hadn't gone on a case in over two weeks. He didn't even have time to help the Irregulars with their experiments.

Not only was Katie distracting she was obviously bad for their uncle, she was so demanding. Always ordering John to do this or that and throwing a fit if she didn't get her way. Of course the children knew John would rid himself of her eventually, somewhere in the next six months to be exact but they were tired of waiting.

Katie had to go and she had to go _now_.

…

Katie hadn't seen much of the Irregulars yet, in fact they doubted she would even remember their brief meetings. She always had John go to her. This was actually a good advantage for them. So they lay in wait for John and Katie, Lisa had theorised their meeting place, a cafe down the road. So not Mason and Riley stayed hidden behind a small brick wall and waited until the two got comfortable. After ten minutes they made their move.

"Dad!" Riley smiled greeting John and ignoring Katie entirely.

"Where have you been?" Mason added, John gaped.

"Dad?" Katie coughed, "What are they talking about?"

"Who're you?" Mason asked rudely, "Why are you with Dad all the time?"

"I should be asking you that first question." Katie growled, crossing her arms over her chest, "Who the hell are you kids?"

"I'm Mason Holmes and this my brother Riley." Mason grinned before tuning back to John, "Dad, we need your help, Clara and Natty have gone off with Gladstone and we can't find them."

Of course the girls and dog were really only a block away waiting for their time to shine. But John didn't know that and it had just the desired effect.

"Holmes?" Katie scoffed, "You expect me to belive you're John's children when your last name doesn;t even match. Don;t say he's lying, I;ve seen his credit cards!"

"We took our other fathers name." Mason replied snippily.

"Clara and Natty are missing?" John cut in, missing the last comment entirely, "Is Sherlock looking for them?"

He couldn't of said it better if Mason had actually put the words in his mouth.

"Sherlock? Isn't he that flatmate you mentioned?" Katie asked.

"Ye-"

"He's our other Father." Riley cut in, "And he really needs your help dad."

"Wait wait wait!" Katie demanded, "I thought you said John is your father!"

Not bright is she?

"He is, but we say dad so that we don't get them both mixed up." Riley smiled watching as John paled, understanding where this is going.

"So John is Dad and Sherlock is Father." Mason grinned.

"You're gay!?" Katie screamed, all eyes turned to John.

"No!" he argued.

"Well they sure seem to imply it!" Katie yelled, "I can't believe you!"

The woman stamped off.

"Sorry Uncle John but she really had to go." Mason sighed.

A terrible shriek filled the air and even John had to laugh as he watched Katie be tackled to the ground but a very frightening Gladstone.

"Oh so sorry!" Clara gushed, "Dad just can't get him to stop doing that to woman, it must be because of your smell!"

"That was low," John growled.

The boys hung their heads.

"But funny." John had to admit, "You'd make Sherlock proud."

"We aim to please."

"Next time do you think you be a little less public?" John sighed flicking his eyes in the direction of the people in the cafe.

* * *

**I can't believe I never had an Irregular scare off one of John's girlfriends! I have a few different chapter plans in my head but I'm not sure if I will do them, please tell me if any of these sounds entertaining:**

**- Werewolves Au**

**- John meets Mary Morstan (This will be based when the Irregulars are older)**

**- Myers and Mira get married**

**- Another chapter in the Vampire verse**

**- Zombie Apocalypse Au**

**- Allergic Reactions**


	28. Chapter 28: The Horror

**Nina - 9**

**Carlo - 14**

Carlo and Nina had never been more terrified in their entire lives. They stood, frozen in shock and horror with their mouths hanging open. This was a fate worse than death itself, their hearts were beating so loudly they were sure the entire street could hear them.

"Well, I'm changing my name and fleeing to Canada, how about you?" Carlo swallowed nervously.

"He'd catch us before we got there." Nina crocked.

Both stood silent again looking at the object that had sealed their fate.

It was the broken remnants of a jar of raspberry jam. The very best kind that costs tent times more than the usual.

"It was an accident, he'll understand." Nina nodded trying to convince them both, "Right?"

"Not this." Carlo shook his head, "He'll murder us in our beds. You know the rules, nobody, not even Dad is allowed to touch Uncle John's jam!"

Every second Tuesday of the month John would get a cab out to the farms on the outskirts of London. He'd buy the jam from a specific farm and then head home again. He knew exactly how long each tub would last if only he took from it and had banned everybody from ever touching it. Once Sherlock had used it to store beetles for an experiment. Nobody really knew what happened when John found out. Only that they located the detective hiding under his bed in the fetal position some hours afterwards, white as a sheet and eyes as big as dinner plates. He still refused to speak of the incident.

"Maybe we could replace it?" Nina suggested, "We have an hour before he gets home from the clinic."

"Even if we could get to the farm and back in time he knows exactly how much jam was inside it." Carlo shook his head, "There is just no way we could convince him."

Their thoughts were interrupted when they heard feet padding up the staircase. They froze in initial fear before calming slightly, those were not John's footfalls.

"Dad!" they cried practically throwing themselves at the man desperately.

"What on earth-"

"We broke John's jam jar!" Carlo sobbed, Sherlock paled.

"We didn't mean to!" Nina insisted, "We just wanted the honey behind it on the shelf for an experiment but we knocked the jar and..."

"You BROKE John's jam jar!" Sherlock gaped, "As in the one he only bought last week and wont have the cash to buy a replacement of for another three?"

They nodded somberly.

Sherlock was silent for a moment.

"Well, I'm changing my name and moving to Canada, what about you two?" He asked, completely serious.

"I told you Canada was a good move." Carlo whispered.

"Maybe Mycroft could get one of his people to get us a new jar before John comes home?" Nina pipped up, "That could work!"

"Yes actually..." Sherlock theorized, "I'm sure I could empty the amount by theorizing how much he has used on his toast this week. Maybe smear a little around the lid, he might never know!"

"What, what about those elections. Isn't Mycroft on lockdown until they're over?" Carlo sighed, the other two deflated.

"Well we must do something, you can't hide or run from John after this!" Sherlock cried.

"What'll he do?"

Sherlock barely repressed a shiver of horror.

"You do not want to know."

They began to pace, more and more manically as the time passed trying, desperately to think of anything that could help. They didn't even realize how much time had passed until they heard the sound of feet on the wooden stairs. John was home.

"He's back! Oh God!" Nina squeaked, Carlo bolted into the bathroom with her right behind.

There was the sound of tense hellos as John entered and then the sound of silence as the doctor no doubt entered the kitchen to make tea nd found his jam on the floor surrounded by glass shards.

"It was some of the kids John," Sherlock started, "They wanted the honey you see and they knocked it over by accident..."

More silence.

"Now John," Sherlock spoke again in a much higher, nervous pitch, "Don't shoot the messenger...John? John!"

There was a loud thump and a small cry from Sherlock and everything was eerily quiet. The two Irregulars shook in their hiding place until there was a slow lick and the door flew open. They screamed.

John looked positively thunderous, his eyes were blazing.

"Out of the bathroom. Now." he ordered quietly, but in no way gently. The two children fled back into the sitting room where Sherlock was seated uncomfortably on the couch where John had roughly shoved him a moment earlier. They sat down either side, nervously.

John took a deep breath and it began.

"DO YOU THREE HAVE NO RESPECT FOR PERSONAL PROPERTY?! I MEAN SERIOUSLY HOW HARD IS IT TO LEAVE ONE LITTLE JAR ALONE!? IT'S THE ONE RULE I HAVE THAT YOU HAVE ACTUALLY FOLLOWED TO THIS POINT AND NOW I COME HOME AND FIND NOTHING IS SACRED ANYMORE!"

The three curled up into tiny balls of fear. John was raving across the room, hands flying everywhere. Sherlock had his face partially buried in his knees as did both the children but none of them could look away out of fear of angering the man more.

"AND IF YOU THINK I'M WAITING ANOTHER THREE WEEKS TO GET MORE OF THAT YOU ARE ALL DEAD WRONG BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL GOING TO GO AND GET IT FOR ME! YOU ARE LUCKY I DONT THROTTLE THE LOT OF YOU! IN FACT I PROBABLY WILL!"

This went on for nearly an hour, no pauses or anything until Sherlock, Nina and Carlo were practically puddles on the floor. When he was finally done raving he simply pointed to the door and the three flew out of it, Nina was sure her feet did't even have time to hit the ground.

They practically fell down the stairs and out the door with John's voice echoing down the stairs after them.

"AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU'VE GOTTEN ME MORE JAM!"

* * *

**Usually John's all smiles but if somebody presses all the right buttons...**

* * *

**Who ever this annonmys review was:**

**"****Please, AUs aren't all they're cracked up to be. Try allergic reactions for a start. Then Mollys' reaction. How about "uncle" Mycroft? Are there no school boards or truancy boards in London? A case of measles, mumps, or chickenpox going from one child to another could cause major problems, especially if 221B ends up being quaratined."**

**Mollys reaction is in Chapter 25: Molly, in _The Irregulars_**

**Uncle Mycroft is in several chapters of the first two stories**

**A social worker visits Baker Street to make sure the children are learning properly in Chapter 18: Showtime of this story**

**And all the Irregulars and Sherlock catch the Chicken Pox and are confined to Baker Street in Chapter 11: Spots in _Baker Street Irregulars._**

**Hope this helps. **


	29. Chapter 29: Allergies

**Joe – 17**

**Natty - 10**

**Halie - 15**

"This is without a doubt the best case we've ever helped on." Halie grinned as she admired their surroundings.

They were kids in a candy store, literally. Sherlock had taken the case when the owner of a local sweets store had reported drugs being slipped into the chocolates to put him out of business by making all his clients sick. Sherlock had quickly proven it was the man's wife who was jealous he spent all his time working rather than with her.

As a reward, the owner had given both Joe and Halie, who had been under cover as simple customers, a bag and told them to take what they like, once the police had cleared out once all the poisoned sweets.

"This is the best chocolate I've ever had!" Joe grinned biting into another piece.

"Come on you two." Sherlock motioned for them to come closer, "It's time to go, you've gotten your sweets."

"Try some of this." Halie offered Joe the peanut brittle, "It's fantastic."

"It looks like melted metal." Joe made a face.

"Just try it! Peanut brittle is the best!" Halie insisted snapping him off a piece.

"It will get stuck in your teeth." Sherlock warned as he ushered them into a cab.

Sighing Joe took the sticky substance and bit into it, delightfully surprised to find that it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd imagined. Actually it was quiet nice, though his dad was right, it did get stuck in your teeth.

It took them only a few minutes to get home and Halie flew out of the car to get to her room and hide her stash before the others got their hands on any of it.

"Hurry up Joe or the others will eat it all when our backs are turned." Halie whispered.

"All what?" Natty asked appearing by the stairs.

"Nothing." Halie replied quickly, dashing up to her room.

"Sweets Natty." Joe replied, "Here, you can have mine."

"Really?" Natty asked suspiciously, Joe had a known sweet tooth, it was odd for him to give up lollies of any kind.

"Yeah, I think I ate too much already, I've got a bit of a stomach ache." Joe sighed, rubbing his belly, the ache was beginning to get worse. He hoped he wasn't going to be sick.

"If you're sure." Natty smiled snatching up the bag and hurrying off to eat.

Joe's stomach gave another pang, forcing him to retire to the closest couch and lay down. He was developing a slight headache too, something must of disagreed with him. He was certain it wasn't the poison, that poison made people throw up within a few minutes of ingestion, he'd not eaten any more sweets since they entered the cab.

Usually a short rest was all that he needed when he had a stomachache but after ten minutes he felt worse if anything. Gently he lifted his palm to his neck, it felt swollen, perhaps he was getting a cold, which usually made his lymph nodes swell up pretty badly.

He groaned as his stomach began to throb terribly, he curled in on himself trying to stifle another moan when it continued. This was defiantly not right, when he began to wheeze he started to panic. His throat felt tight, much too tight, he was beginning to struggle for breath.

"Natty!" He cried, knowing she was close by, "Natty!"

Carefully he got to his feet but found he doubled over almost immediately as his stomach protested as did his lungs, he made to it to eh doorway and leaned on the wood heavily.

"Na-tty!" He chocked, it was getting harder to breath.

"Joe?" Natty's innocent voice echoed through the hall and she appeared at the staircase once more, "Joe!"

Thankful he had some help Joe slid down the doorframe until he ended up awkwardly leaning on it while he sat on the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" Natty asked quickly trying to pry her brother's arms from their place wrapped around his stomach. When she finally did Joe heard her gasp.

"Hives! Joe you're arms are covered in hives!"

Joe would usually of replied with a sarcastic comment but this time he just managed to nod weakly and cough.

"I'm going to get dad and John." Natty told him, "Just breath slowly until I get back okay? And don't you dare go to sleep! Halie! Halie get down here!"

Joe nodded again; he didn't really have the energy for anything else.

…

"Colonel Mustard, in the dining room, with the pipe." John concluded.

"But that makes no sense!" Sherlock exclaimed, "The only way this could work is if the victim-"

"Dad! John!" Natty yelled came up the stairs after the door slammed below and soon the little girl had burst through the door and was panting.

"You've gotta come! It's Joe, he's sick, or something." Natty panted, "He's covered in hives and he can't breathe!"

The game was forgotten in seconds.

"I'll get my medi bag, you go to him." John yelled, heading for his room, "If it looks to serious don't wait for me!"

Sherlock was already at the door.

When he entered 222 he quickly saw the problem, Joe was slumped against the doorway with Halie holding his face toward hers, the boy was barely conscious.

"Hey, no sleeping, remember." Halie hissed, "Eyes open."

"What happened?" Sherlock asked quickly beginning to check him over with both his eyes and hands.

_Eyes glassy, the way his arms are positions indicate abdominal pain, skin on arms coated in hives, most likely on the chest and stomach as well. Swelling on the neck causing the restriction of breathing, most likely light headed and dizzy, half aware. _

_Conclusion: Sever Allergic Reaction. _

"Joe, I need you to listen." Sherlock turned so that Joe's half closed eyes were focused on him, "We're you bitten by anything recently?"

He shook his head and wheezed, _not enough air to spare for speech. Bad. _

"Have you eaten anything you've never tried?" Sherlock asked, he was ninety precent sure on this but he had to confirm. As expected Joe nodded.

"Peanut brittle!" Halie announced, "It must have been the peanut brittle I gave him!"

Sherlock nodded, he concurred. However in the brief moment it had taken to glance toward Halie to listen Joe had finally lost consciousness.

"Sherlock, what's going on, fill me in quickly!" John announced, appearing at his side and quickly taking in the unconscious adolescent.

"Sever allergic reaction to peanuts." Sherlock summarised, "He needs help, now. Natty call an ambulance!"

The girl was gone in seconds.

John busied himself reading a spring-loaded needle of adrenaline.

"This will help him hold out until we can get him to hospital." He explained quickly locating a vein on Joe's thigh. His arms were completely coated in a red rash of hives now, no use injecting there.

The boy didn't even flinch when the doctor plunged the needle in. Carefully Sherlock gathered the boy up in his arms, leaning him the sitting position against his chest in an effort to help clear his airway, the detective found himself listening to the slow wheezy breathing and praying it continued.

…

Joe felt funny, no the painful kind he remembered feeling before he passed out, but the strange warm fuzzy kind that came with drugs. He blinked his eyes open and found himself in a bed, surrounded by a curtain. Hospital.

"I told them sedating you was a bad idea."

Joe jumped at the unexpected voice.

Sherlock gave him a short smile from his place at the side of the bed.

"The others are downstairs in the waiting room, they're driving the nurses crazy asking after you." Sherlock continued.

"Dad, I think there is a slight possibility I'm allergic to peanuts." Joe grinned.

"I concur." Sherlock nodded before turning serious, "You must be careful."

"I'll need to carry an epipen." Joe sighed, "The doctor says so long as you don't ingest any of them you should be fine."

"I'm surprised we haven't had this problem before, considering all the Chinese food we eat." Joe sighed, "When can I go home?"

"Soon, once the doctors have checked you over once more." Sherlock replied.

Carefully Joe stretched his muscles, he felt stiff after spending so long in a bed, he must have been out for a while.

"Do not worry me like that again." Sherlock added seriously.

"I won't." Joe promised, Sherlock gave a small smile and gently laid a kiss on the boy's forehead.

"Come on then, let's go get the doctor so you can go home."

* * *

**That was WAY longer than I thought it would be. I chose Joe cause I haven't written him in a while, I try to write about them all in rotation but I end up forgetting about some of them for a while.**

**I don't know what American's call epipens, or if they even have a different name but in case they do. An epipen is what Australian's call a special needle which people with sever allergic reactions carry with them, if they begin to have a reaction they can inject themselves with medicine to stop or slow it. Then they have more time to get help. **


	30. Chapter 30: Sherlock in Wonderland

**Because I'm weird that's why…**

* * *

Sherlock wasn't exactly sure where he was.

He'd been chasing a suspect down into the abandoned tunnels of the London tube, if he caught him he'd have the head of the new drug operation and then his entire force would follow. They'd been peddling some new drug, which was yet to have an official street name; though most people who'd tried it had nick named the pink powder 'bliss'.

Sherlock had wanted to try it to experiments with it's effects but John and Lestrade were having none of it. He'd pleaded with them, those who'd been under it's influence made no sense when they spoke, he needed to know what it did but the two elder men were adamant about it.

So he and John had been looking for it's inventor and found him too, one minute Sherlock had been running after him through a rusty room full of pipes, the next he'd opened the door and been inside a very fancy dining room.

The carpets were thick and the wallpaper ornate, it reminded Sherlock of Mycroft's house and the Holmes mansion. He blinked and turned to go back the way he came and get John but the door was gone.

How did that happen?

"You look awfully dull."

Sherlock spun around at the voice and saw Nina sitting in the middle of a huge mahogany dining table. She was dressed most peculiarly, pink and grey striped dress, socks and shoes with grey mousy ears and a tail. Much to Sherlock's surprise he saw that it flicked realistically, but that was impossible, Nina couldn't have a tail!

"I didn't tell you to help on this case." He asked seriously, "What are you doing here?"

"I think the question is what are _you_ doing here?"Nina countered getting to her feet and running along the table before landing by a small door, "I wouldn't go round wearing such drab dark clothes if I were you. People might get the wrong idea."

Then she opened the small red door and skipped through.

"Hey!" Sherlock yelled running over and crawling through the door, despite the fact that it was half his size. He huffed in annoyance when he realised the corridor was the same size and was reduced to crawling through the entire thing until it came to an end.

The wall was a bush made of ivy, it took a lot of wriggling but finally the detective squeezed through and fell out onto the grass.

"What an odd place to live."

"Yes I concur."

Sherlock blinked as he lay on the grass where he'd fell, Riley and Carlo were standing over him in matching blue and red overalls.

"Why do you live in a bush, it can't be very comfortable-"

"For a man of your size."

"Why are you dressed like that?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the two before getting to his feet.

"Because we are!" The boys chimed.

"Not a very smart man, are you?" Riley chuckled.

"I don't believe he is, only a fool would live in a bush that's far to small for him." Carlo replied.

Sherlock shook his head in disbelief, what on earth was going on?

"Where did Nina go? She came through here." Sherlock sighed feeling a headache coming on.

The boys turned to each other.

"Nina?"

"Oh I think he means the mouse."

"Oh he must."

"The mouse is going to the castle."

"As are we."

"Everybody is going there today."

"Uh right." Sherlock muttered, "Well, how do I get to this castle?"

"Well we certainly can't take you." Riley scoffed walking away, "Dressed like that, people will get the wrong idea. Perhaps you should ask the Hatter."

What on earth was wrong with his clothes?

Before Sherlock could ask this though both the boys had jumped into a puddle and simple slipped through. Blinking in shock Sherlock looked down at the water, it was only a few inches deep, there was no way they could have been submerged like that!

"This place makes no sense." Sherlock muttered to himself.

He looked around the garden; finally he spotted a bath between two bushes that lead into a forest. Well it was the only lead he had. After walking down it for a while it became apparent there was no sign of a castle and no sign of anybody named 'Hatter'.

A giggle reached his ears, he glanced around but there was nobody there.

"Up here silly!"

He looked up and there was Marie, Mason and Joe all seated on a thick branch.

They were all wearing strange striped clothes like Nina had but instead of pink and grey they were pink and purple! No mouse ears though.

"What on earth are you?" Sherlock asked, he'd figured out by now they were not responding to their names.

"We're cats silly." Marie giggled.

"Have you never seen a cat before?" Joe asked.

"None quite like you three." Sherlock retorted, Joe swung down and hung in front of the detective.

"What strange clothes you have." He mused.

"Don't be rude!" Mason scolded, "Clearly he is mad, nobody else would dress that way otherwise."

"I'm not mad, this place is!" Sherlock argued.

"Oh yes, most every ones mad here." Marie agreed.

"I don't suppose you…cats, know where a person named Hatter lives?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh of course!" Mason grinned, "We cats know the way."

A pause.

"Are you going to tell me?" Sherlock prompted after a minute.

"No." Joe laughed, "Why would we?"

The others seemed to find this extremely funny because soon they were all cackling like a bunch of hyena. Sherlock huffed and continued to walk.

"Oh don't be like that!" Marie whined, "We'll tell you the way to Hatter's place."

"Yeah, it's through there." Mason pointed to a large green door in an oak tree which Sherlock swore wasn't there a second ago.

Slowly he creaked the wood open and looked down, he couldn't see the bottom.

"It's perfectly safe." Joe grinned, "Go on, jump!"

Normally Sherlock would never of taken the chance but if Riley and Carlo could submerge and disappear into a puddle, maybe he could land safely. The fall was quick and he could hear the cats laughing above him still.

He landed hard on a tiled floor and found that he was in an ornate room where Natty was sitting on the floor by a throne wearing a frilly blue dress.

"Oh, you broke the ceiling." She drawled, "Mummy wont be pleased."

"What?" He asked, but Natty just skipped away humming some tuneless song as she went.

"mama!" She yelled before disappearing behind the throne only for another woman to replace her. But this woman was older, dressed in red robes and wore a crown.

"Irene?" He questioned.

"How dare you call me by my name, and after falling through my ceiling so rudely too!" She scolded.

"I honestly had no idea I would, it just sort of happened." Sherlock sighed.

"Stop addressing me without permission!" Irene scolded, "Guards!"

Still slightly dazed from the fall Sherlock's head reeled when he saw the employees of Scotland Yard change into the room behind him dressed in white suits patterned with playing cards.

"What is it your majesty?" Lestrade asked fully ignoring Sherlock.

"He has broken the laws, off with his head."

"What?" Sherlock gaped.

"You know the rules, and if you break the rules you get your head chopped off." Donovan sighed like she was talking to a child.

"Standard procedure." Anderson continued.

"What rules?" Sherlock exclaimed as two more card-clad men began to drag him from the room.

The guards continued to drag him towards the doors until they opened and in stepped John. Sherlock had never been so happy to see the man, even if he was wearing a strange white suit and top hat.

"Oh there you are!" he smiled, "Sorry your majesty, my dog is always running off. He's completely off his rocker."

"Dog!?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"See?" John sighed, "He doesn't even know he's a dog."

"Oh yes, dogs are frightfully stupid." Irene drawled.

"I'm not a dog!" Sherlock yelled, how dare they all ignore him.

John shot him a pitying look before grabbing him by the shoulders and steering him out in the corridor.

"Come on boy we've bothered the queen enough." John called before the doors closed.

The two didn't speak for a few minutes, Sherlock was too busy being pushed down the hall. He spotted Nina, Riley and Carlo playing croquet with some talking green flamingo's in the garden and decided not to comment. Finally they were out out the awful castle and on the draw bridge.

"Sorry about that." John smiled, "My cats like to cause trouble you see."

The three 'cats' purred, appearing behind him, still grinning away.

"So where is your owner anyway?" John continued.

"I don't have an owner." Sherlock scoffed, "John please, just explain what's going on."

"Oh so your owners name is John then." John continued, "Where does he live?"

"I don't have an owner!" Sherlock yelled, "You're John!"

"Stupid dog." Marie snickered, "That's Hatter."

"Hatter?"

"At your service!" John smiled, taking off his hat and bowing deeply.

"I just want to get back to London where things make sense." Sherlock groaned.

"London, what a funny name." John giggled, "Then again you're a funny dog."

"I'm not a dog!" Sherlock repeated.

"Well what do you call these then?" John asked reaching up to Sherlock head and tugging on something making the man yelp.

Slightly panicked Sherlock moved his hands to his skull and indeed found two small furry ears sticking out of his head. How long had those been there? Still panicking slightly he ran to the bridges edge and stared into the water, there they were. Two little brown dog ears, securely attached to his head.

Suddenly there was a pressure on his back, he turned just in time to see Joe push him over the edge and into the water. His limbs felt heavy as soon as the icy water hit him.

"Go on! All dogs can swim!" Came a taunt from Mason.

Swim? Suddenly he couldn't remember how, his limbs felt heavy.

"Sherlock?"

Then the water was gone. The cold was replaced with warm blankets, he was in a bed. Oh not another portal.

He blinked his eyes open.

No strange room or gardens, no children who were half animal and no John wearing a white tuxedo.

There was a lot of white though.

A hospital.

"Sherlock? Are you okay?"

Sherlock turned to see John, the real John, with him jumpers and all looking at him worriedly. Sherlock's hands flew to his head, no ears. The movement made John jump in shock.

"Are you oka-"

"I don't have ears!" Sherlock grinned, speaking before he could think.

"Uh-"

"And you're not in a tuxedo!" Sherlock continued happily before glancing around the room, "Those cats aren't still here are they? I almost got beheaded because of them!"

John seemed to pale.

"Sherlock what do you remember, before the um, cats." he asked.

"We were chasing the suspect, then the world went mad." Sherlock muttered.

"He threw that bliss powder in your face, by the time I got to you, you were a muttering high mess." John explained, "You've been hallucinating."

Thank God.

"Yes of course." Sherlock replied finally feeling under control again.

"You've been out for hours but you should be able to get up now if you like. The doctors said you could go home once you were conscious since I'm a doctor and can keep an eye on you." John smiled helping Sherlock back into his coat.

The detective finally felt at home again, the strange nightmare was already being deleted. When he reached the waiting room.

* * *

**The idea wouldn't go away! XD**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hey guys I just thought I'd give you all some notice. Over the next month I have 3 folio's due, 2 interviews, a panell presentation and an exam to prepare for. So Odds are I will not be able to update this story. **

**I AM NOT ABANDONING IT! I SHALL RETURN! **

**But after my exam period is over. I MIGHT be able to update once if I get the time but don't get your hopes up. You'll have your Irregular updates back in a few weeks.**

**I'll delete this chapter and replace it with a real one when I make up for it I might upload some short stories and drabbles seperatly. I've got a bunch I've never uploaded. **


	32. Chapter 32: Manic I

**Emily - 14**

**Ricky - 14**

Emily trembled.

That in itself was new. She never shook that way, her fear was always carefully hidden behind a mask of anger when she could help it. Right now she wasn't angry. She was just plain frightened.

She felt Ricky squeeze her wrist, she returned the gesture with her free hand. He was shaking too.

"Emily, Ricky. Get behind me." Sherlock ordered, eyes not leaving the man with the gun pointing straight at them.

Slowly they stepped behind the consulting detective, desperately wishing that John would burst through the door and save them all.

"Don't worry," Sherlock promised, "Everything is going to be alright."

...

_Three Days Previously..._

"Kids are disappearing all over town," Lestrade explained, "Always from parks and play grounds, no connections save that they were all between the ages of nine and sixteen and were alone at the time."

Sherlock glanced over the file as he sat at his microscope at Baker Street. He had that look in his eyes that meant it was at least a seven. Usually the Irregulars would of been thrilled but Sherlock had promised them that today he would let them experiment on the tongues Molly had given him.

However, cases always came before experiments for Sherlock.

"Hmmmm, clearly the perpetrator is insane," Sherlock mused, "Obviously he's got some fixation on children, perhaps he had deluded himself into thinking he's helping them."

"He?" Lestrade questioned.

"Obviously." Sherlock mused.

He was silent for a few moments more before standing, with a grin on his face.

"It's simple enough, there is not enough data here for me to narrow down a suspect, especially because there are no witnesses. So in order to arrest him we must simply, find his next target and follow him to the other children."

"Couldn't we just deduce his next target and stop him?" Lestrade asked.

"No." Ricky shook his head, "If he really is deluded as dad says then he will never reveal where he is keeping the other children."

"So," Sherlock rubbed his hands together and turned to the children, "Who wants to get kidnapped?"

Several hands shot into the air.

"Oh me, please! I haven't helped on a case in forever!" Marie grinned, Sherlock shook his head.

"One of the older children," Sherlock insisted, "I need to make sure you can take care of yourself just in case."

"I'll do it." Emily grinned, "I'm the best at taijutsu, I can defend myself."

Sherlock examined her for a moment before nodding.

"Wait, wait!" Lestrade insisted, "You can't be serious, using the kids as bait!"

"Emily can handle it." Sherlock nodded, "This man believes himself to be doing good, I do not think he will severely harm her, if he attempts to Emily can fight her way out."

The blonde girl grinned. This should be fun!

...

The plan was simple, a small electronic tracker was slipped into the lining of her jeans where it would not be spotted or removed. Dan sat across the park, hidden within the branches of a tree giving the illusion that Emily was on her own, reading in a secluded area of the park. A few hours passed and she was beginning to doubt that the kidnapper would show when finally she heard a snap of twig.

Were somebody simply walking toward her they would not of paused, this person did. Emily pretended not to hear and turned a page in her book.

"Are you alone?" Came a mans voice.

Emily turned, the man had grey hair that was messy and looked as if it hadn't been washed in months. The eyes were ever so slightly too wide, making him appear manic, which he probably was.

"Yes." She replied innocently, "Why?"

"Children should never be left alone." He muttered, over and over again reaching into his pocket and brining out a rag. Emily could smell the chloroform from here. How cliche.

She pretended to be frightened, getting up and then 'tripping' over a stick. It didn't take very long for the man to grab her and stuff the chemical soaked rag in her face. She did her best to hold her breath but the smell made her dizzy and she soon felt herself going limp.

...

Unlike most children, Emily was not surprised when she awoke in an unfamiliar bedroom being stared at by several other kids. In fact she smiled, the trap had worked! Grinning she sat up and stretched, carefully patting the lining of her jeans and feeling the tracker still firmly in place and sending out a signal to her fathers mobile.

She'd be home by tea time.

"How long was I out?" She asked a red haired boy who looked around her age.

"About an hour...he bought you here and told us to look after you." He mumbled.

"It's okay." Emily smiled, "I'm fine and my dad will be coming to rescue me soon. All of you as well."

"Is your daddy a policeman?" Asked a dark eyed little girl.

"No, he's a consulting detective." Emily corrected, "I have a tracker on me, he'll be here soon."

She glanced around the room, it was plain. A few beds, some trunks and a bolted window.

"He feeds us once a day." The red haired boy continues, "And he teaches us maths and stuff when he gets the time, he keeps telling us to call him 'daddy'."

"He's deranged." Emily shrugged.

"You're not scared?" Another child asked.

Grinning, Emily stood up.

"I'm Emily Holmes and I'm not afraid of anything or any one." She pronounced proudly.

When another hour passed and neither Sherlock or John had arrived she began to feel nervous. Surely they would of gotten here by now...

The manic man who'd bought her here left them some food, saying that 'daddy' had business to take care of. Emily already had a father, she didn't need another, but she took the food anyway. Later he returned and demanded all the children go to bed, despite the fact that it was only 8pm.

The other frightened children did as they were told, while she stayed awake, biding her time. When she was sure the coast was clear she tip toed her way out of the room and down the hall. There was only two other doors besides the one she had exited, one had light glowing beneath it, occasionally interrupted by shadow. 'Daddy' must of been in there.

Silently she crept along the corridor to the other door and clicked it open. It was a file room of some sort. Excellent. Carefully the girl thumbed through the files, one draw had various documents about the building, insurance etc, the other had files on children.

Her father was right, this man was deranged, the files belonged to a foster system. This man had probably worked for it some time ago before he went of the deep end and was now deluded into thinking he was rescuing children from he streets.

"What are you doing out of bed!?"

Emily spun round so fast it made her neck ache, it turns out she hadn't been as sneaky as she'd originally thought.

Uh oh...

* * *

**This is turning out to be longer then I planned so I cut it in half :P**

**I'm baaaaaack! **

**I still have another exam to go but it's pretty lax from here on in. Guess who got awards in four out of five subjects ;)**

**I'd also like to ask a favour, my most recent story "Asylum of the Daleks - Sherlock" Has barely any reviews and I'd really like some opinions on it. So if you get the time check it out!**


	33. Chapter 33: Manic II

"I was...ummm..." Emily fumbled.

"You shouldn't be out of bed!" The man scolded grabbing her very tightly by the arm and dragging her from the room.

"Let me go!" She growled, "Let me go now!"

"Do not speak back to me!" He yelled.

Emily stilled, perhaps it was best she didn't taunt the mentally unstable man.

Where on earth was Sherlock?

The man threw her back int the room with the others with so much force she fell onto her turned and glared at him. She was about to give him a piece of her mind, ignoring her earlier choice not to taunt when her ears picked up footsteps.

"Who could that be?" the man muttered.

"Rescue." Emily replied smugly.

This made the man stiffen and reach a shaking hand into his pocket, pulling out a key.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure nobody finds you all." he promised, the children trembled, all except Emily of course.

"We want to be found." She replied boldly, "You kidnaped us!"

"No no, dear, I'm protecting you." The man shook his head.

"I want my dad!" Emily shouted with a stamp of her foot.

"I'm right-"

"You are not my dad!" Emily screeched, how dare he compare himself to Sherlock.

The footsteps got closer and Emily's heart soared, the man turned quickly and shut the door, locking it as he went. The other children curled up on their beds, they looked nervous.

Emily on the other hand simply sat on the bed and waited, fully expecting her father or Uncle Lestrade to come bursting through the door at any moment. What she was not expecting, was Ricky.

The door unlocked and he was shoved inside before the man slammed it closed once more.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Emily asked, "Where's dad?"

"Your tracker stopped working while you were on the move, dad's been narrowing down possible places you could of been heading," Ricky explained, "I was checking out this old building and well, here I am."

Fumbling with the stitching near her jean pocket Emily withdrew the tracker, only to find that Ricky was right. It was snapped right in half, she must of knocked it against something when she was unconscious.

"Don't fret," Ricky grinned, "I've got a tracker too, Dad will notice I've stopped moving and check this place out soon enough."

For a while they waited, but Irregulars were not known for their patience. The moon was high by now, it must of been close to midnight and many of the younger children were beginning to drift off.

"I still have my pen knife," Ricky spoke up eventually, "I'll bet I can shimmy that lock on the window and we could get these kids out of here, the police can't be too far away."

Emily nodded, it took some time but eventually Ricky managed to get the window to slide upwards.

"Alright, all of you go out this window and try and find the police or a man named John Watson or Sherlock Holmes, they'll help you." Emily ordered.

One by one the children slowly filed out the window and onto the fire escape, glancing back at the door in case the insane man came back. The two Irregulars had finally emptied the room when they heard footsteps coming their way, unfortunately they were too slow and the man burst into the room, catching them red handed about to climb out the window after the others.

"What are you doing!?" He exclaimed, racing forward and slamming the window closed so quickly it was a miracle Ricky's fingers were not flattened.

"Emily? Ricky?"

Sherlock!

"Dad!" They called happily.

"Oh no you don't!" The man growled as footsteps began to echo up the hall, he reached into his jacket and much to the children's horror, pulled out a gun.

"Dad he's got a gun!" Ricky yelled just as Sherlock burst into the room, narrowly dodging the bullet. The children acted quickly, Ricky grabbed the man's collar while Emily dropped the floor, he tripped over her easily and the kids ran to Sherlock's side.

"Don't move!" The man raged getting to his feet, the gun still pointed straight at them, "I-I won't let you take them! I'd r-rather them dead!"

He was going to shoot them!?

"These are not your children." Sherlock spoke slowly, "You're confused, let me take them home and I'll see you get the proper help."

"No! You! Leave now!" He yelled.

Emily trembled.

That in itself was new. She never shook that way, her fear was always carefully hidden behind a mask of anger when she could help it. Right now she wasn't angry. She was just plain frightened.

She felt Ricky squeeze her wrist, she returned the gesture with her free hand. He was shaking too.

"Emily, Ricky. Get behind me." Sherlock ordered, eyes not leaving the man with the gun pointing straight at them.

Slowly they stepped behind the consulting detective, desperately wishing that John would burst through the door and save them all.

"Don't worry," Sherlock promised, "Everything is going to be alright."

Slowly they slipped behind Sherlock, inching toward the door as Sherlock shielded them from the gun's view.

"Come back here!" the man ordered, Emily bolted for the door.

BANG!

Ricky yelled in shock as Sherlock fell backwards with a bullet in his chest. Filled with rage Emily ran forward, ignoring how full hardy it was and full on tackled the man to the floor, his head smacking against the window as he fell. Knocking him out.

The blonde girl turned, fully expecting to see red blood flowing out her fathers chest but instead to her shock Sherlock was sitting up, pulling the bullet form his chest.

"Kevlar vest." He smirked, "John will be pleased with my initiative."

"I thought he'd shot you!" Emily yelled feeling furious.

"You must stop acting before you think Emily it will be your downfall." Sherlock chided getting to his feet.

Emily had every intention of punching him in the face but some how ended up hugging the detective for dear life.

* * *

**Coming up some time in the future:**

**- Another Chapter in the Vampire universe**

**- An AU in which Sherlock runs an orphanage during the Spanish Flu epidemic.**

**- The Irregulars break Sherlock's violin.**

**I also want to do a chapter in which the Irregulars look after Sherlock in some way but I cant decide what I need to do for it... my initial ideas are:**

**- Sherlock thinks John is dead.**

**- Sherlock is ill/injured (But I've done that before...so only if you guys really want it.)**


	34. Chapter 34: The Angels

Usually, when somebody is dying they feel one of two things, happiness or panic. Very few people _want_ to die and Greg Lestrade was not one of them. Yet, as he leaned up against the cold wall trying, in vain, to keep the pressure on his bullet wound, he felt oddly impassive. Nothing in his life was particularly fulfilling, but it wasn't awful. He had a good job and a home but barely any friends, especially since his divorce.

So perhaps that is why he felt nothing as he slowly slipped away, then again, it could of been the blood loss. He was barely conscious when it happened, the voices, his eyes were already closed.

"We shouldn't."

"His name isn't on the list, what harm is there in saving him?"

"Just because it wont upset the balance doesn't mean we should do it."

"He's a policeman, he could save lives that would otherwise die."

"You can't know that without Father or John."

"We don't have time, I don't care what you say I'm helping him."

"He's probably too far gone."

"No thanks to you."

Were he more aware Lestrade would be wondering why these two people were arguing and not say, helping him. But now, in his weakened state the only thought that came to mind was:

Those are the voices of children.

He felt hands on the side of his face and a strange warmth spreading through him, weakly he opened his eyes. He was only able to half lift the lids but it was enough for him to see the blurry image of a face looking over him. A young, perfect face, devoid of flaws. With shining eyes and dark brown hair ornately braided around the scull. Th thing that was imprinted in his memory however, was the fact that two small, white feathered wings were growing out of the girls back just below the shoulder blades.

There was a figure in the background but his eyes wouldn't focus and he felt them slipping closed again.

"That's it, go back to sleep. Things will be better when you wake up..."

...

When the Inspector came to next he was at home in his bed, still wearing his work clothes. Could he of really dreamed the entire thing? Sitting up he massaged his forehead with his fingers, the entire thing was so clear, yet, here he was. Logically it must of been a dream. At least that's what he thought until he let his hand drop and it caught on the bullet hole in his shirt.

There was no blood, on the material yet there was a distinct hole where the bullet had hit. Carefully he examined the skin and found that aside from being slightly pinker than the rest of him, it was fine.

That made no sense at all.

Stiffly he got to his feet and wandered out to the kitchen, fully intending to make himself a cup of coffee to help him think but instead was met with a man.

He was small but solidly built with blonde hair and blue eyes, in a way he was very simple, and every man but then again he wasn't. His skin wasn't marred or flawed at all, much like the girl's had been. His features sharp and smooth, almost ethereal. His clothes were odd as well, all white, they reminded Greg of hospital scrubs.

Of course Lestrade's brain decided that the pair of white wings on the mans back were to be noticed last.

He smiled when Lestrade entered the room, the smile turned to a chuckle when he saw the man openly gaping at the white appendages.

"I'm guessing you're Greg Lestrade?" The man asked.

"Um, yes." Lestrade stammered, was he just supposed to ignore the wings?

"I'm sorry, I know this is all a bit much isn't it?" The man chuckled, "But I can't hide them without being completely invisible and I figured you'd prefer this to a disembodied voice."

"I suppose." Greg replied still feeling rather stunned.

"My name's John." The winged man introduced, "You were saved last night by some friends of mine."

"The girl?" Lestrade asked, "That was real?"

"Yes, I need you to come with me." John told him, grabbing his hand.

Lestrade blinked and he was instantly in a large shaded corridor next to a garden. He blinked around, he appeared to be in what looked like some ancient Greek temple, complete with Corinthian columns and statues. Only it was all new.

"How-?"

"It's too hard to explain to a human." John waved him off, "Sherlock will explain everything."

Then John took off, walking through the corridors and past many more gardens. In which Lestrade saw many more winged people, children included. Finally John came to a small wooden door and opened it revealing a comfortable looking room which was a surprising mix of both Modern and classical furniture.

There was a pale winged man with dark curls sitting in the middle of it, Greg reddened slightly when he realized the man was naked save a white sheet bunched up around his waist as if he;d carried it from his bed.

At his side was the girl who'd saved him and another taller boy holding a dead rose and staring at it intently.

"Ah, John." The man, who must of been Sherlock spoke up when John entered the room with Lestrade trailing behind.

"This is the man Marie saved." John informed him waving an arm at Greg, "I hope you know what your doing Sherlock, bringing a mortal to our realm is forbidden."

Sherlock looked at Lestrade with interest for a fer moments.

"Take off your shirt." he ordered after a few seconds.

"Um, no." Lestrade replied after a few moments of sarcastic thought.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked petulantly.

"Well I don't know what it's like for you...whatever it is you are, but I'm not going to take off my shirt just because a naked man in a sheet tells me to!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I just want to see your bullet wound." He sighed, "Don't make me ask John to compel you."

"Compel me?" The inspector stammered.

_"Sit." _John ordered harshly, his voice gaining a slight glow as he stared Lestrade down, his eyes flashed gold and the next thing he knew, Greg was on the ground.

"Compelling, right." he muttered, undoing the buttons of his shirt to show Sherlock.

"Hmmmm, not too bad, at least you remembered to clean the blood from his clothes." Sherlock muttered, casting an eye to Marie, "You may of gotten away with it were your healing a little more thorough and if you'd remembered to fix the hole in his shirt."

"Sorry, father." Marie muttered.

"I told you to leave him." The boy chided.

"Mason, focus on your study." Sherlock snapped.

The boy pouted and began focusing on his flower again, which was healing before Greg's eyes. He was about to ask what the hell was going on, feeling he'd been lenient enough, but he never got the chance.

Sherlock's eyes lit up bright white lid to lid for a few moments before fading, the man grunted either in shock or pain and lifted a hand to his head.

"Sherlock?" John was at his side in a second.

"Jeff Hope is at it again." Sherlock growled, "He's thrown out the balance again."

"Daddy?" Marie questioned.

"Go and reap the spirit of the woman he just killed." Sherlock told her, "Jennifer Wilson. Laurinston Gardens, London."

The girl was gone in a blink.

"What the hell are you...thing?" Greg asked, somewhat harshly.

Sherlock glared at Lestrade for a few seconds and looked as though he was about to reply when his eyes lit up again and he squeezed his eyes closed.

"Mason, take care of our guest will you I need to tend to your father." John asked quickly, the boy nodded.

"Come on mister." He called, grabbing Lestrade by the elbow and taking him outside.

He lead him into one of the gardens where a teenage boy and girl sat watching another young blonde girl play in the fountain.

"These are some of my siblings." Mason explained, "Halie, Joe, Natty, meet Greg Lestrade."

"A human." The little winged blonde grinned, "Why's he here?"

"Marie saved him the other night but left signs." Mason sighed.

"Why didn't he just get John to compel him to forget?" Joe asked, Lestrade felt slightly sick at that. What if he was going to have his memory wiped?

"He wanted to see how good Marie was at healing I'm guessing, make a lesson out of it."

"I'm right here you know." Lestrade grumbled, "You could at least explain to me where the hell I am and what the hell is going on!"

The children gasped and the elder girl clamped her hands over the young one's ears.

"That word is foul, especially to an angel." She growled.

"So you're angels then." Lestrade sighed, finally some answered, the wings probably should of given it away.

"That's what humanity has called us, we make sure people die when they are supposed to and then lead their souls onwards to peace." Halie replied, "Well, we will when we are older, when we have finished our training. We're just cherubs."

"And that Sherlock guy runs the place?" Lestrade asked.

"He's our father." Mason replied.

"What, you mean that guy's like...God?" Lestrade gaped, that was the guy he'd been praying to?

"No." Joe scoffed, "Dad's the Arch Angel, he's in tune with the universe itself. He chooses who lives and dies."

"So why am I alive?" Lestrade asked, "If he chose for me to die."

"He doesn't make it happen." halie scoffed, "He simply makes sure the plan is followed, if your name isn't on his list and you don't die, fine, if something happens and you do, fine again. But if somebody is on the list and they don't die, the balance is upset."

"He said something about Jeff Hope, unbalancing the universe." Lestrade explained.

"It's being taken care of."

John's voice was so unexpected Greg jumped.

"Come on," The blonde man continued, "Time I took you home."

As he and John walked to a more private area Greg began to panic, was he going to lose his memories?

"So um, is Sherlock alright?" Greg asked, lacking anything else to say.

"Yes, it hurts him when the balance is upset, he just needs some rest and for the balance to be restored, Hope was supposed to die months ago but a rogue has been keeping him from us." John explained, "He's been taking lives and mixing up the order. It's got Sherlock under a lot of pressure."

"Are you going to take my memories?" Lestrade asked finally, "The children mentioned you could compel me to forget."

"I can." John nodded, "I'm the Guardian Angel, second in command to Sherlock I have to do what he says."

"Even if you don't want to?" Greg questioned.

"I always want to." John shrugged, "We were bred to be a team. Just like the cherubs."

Greg was sorely tempted to ask how exactly baby angels were made and born.

"Right well here is where we entered." John smiled, indeed they had returned to where they had first appeared.

Lestrade had his back to the angel, looking at the garden.

"Greg?"

"Yes?" Lestrade turned around only to come face to face with a gold eyed John.

_"Sleep. And Forget."_

* * *

**I have absolutely no idea where this came from... I really have to stop with the AU's**


	35. Chapter 35: Protective I

**Who wants some slight OC over protective Sherlock? :P**

* * *

The people at Scotland Yard were very familiar with the Irregulars since they had become common knowledge a few years ago. However, that did not mean they approved of Sherlock's parenting. He let them run about the streets without supervision, he showed them gruesome crime scene photos and explained in detail how the corpses became mangled and he let them play with lab equipment and dangerous chemicals.

Several times social services had been called up but mysteriously the calls never seemed to take and the handful of times they did the investigation found a wholesome family home without any body parts in the fridge.

Everybody at the MET knew the truth of course but when your brother is the British Government you can get away with a lot.

Why the children even liked Sherlock was a topic of debate all the time, especially when the detective used the children in his schemes to catch killers.

"They hang on his every word and yet he doesn't even care about them!" Dimmock exclaimed pointing toward the detective who was explaining to Lestrade how the victim was decapitated, while Mikey stood at his side happily taking notes.

Nobody noticed the boy turn his head ever so slightly to hear the conversation.

"I mean, I've seen him worry about them a few times but it was probably to do with the case." Dimmock continued, "They were stuffing it up or something."

"I thought that parents were, y'know, protective." Sally muttered.

They continued to berate Sherlock's parents, accusing him of being uncaring and heartless for a while longer, not noticing the small grin on the boys face.

...

"You've got a plan?"

"Oh yes, we'll make them pay for what they said."

"I feel bad manipulating dad like this."

"You know this is his only blind spot, besides he'll forgive us if he figures it out."

"When you mean, not if."

"Relax."

"Why's it got to be me?"

"Because you're the best at crying at will, Clara."

"Fine...I suppose it will be worth it to see the looks on their faces."

...

It took them a few weeks to find suitable conditions for their little trick but finally the day had arrived. Clara had convinced Sherlock to bring her along to Scotland Yard so she could tamper with officer's desk, something Sherlock was always happy to allow.

Making sure she was as indiscreet as possible Clara made her way through the desks until she reached Dimmock's and immediately began to mess with his paper work. It took the man less than thirty seconds to make his way over and start yelling, Donovan at his heels.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.

"Proving a point." She replied airily, shuffling a few more papers together.

"Quit that!" Dimmock yelled grabbing the papers from her hand only to have the small girl staple them before he had the chance to fix them.

"Why must you always be such a pain?" Donovan growled.

"You're mean to my dad." Clara stuck her tongue out.

"That is so childish!"

"I am a child. A child who's winning this argument."

Dimmock formed a fist and slammed it against the table in frustration, the sound was loud. Loud enough to of been heard from Lestrade's office at least. Perfect.

The two officers looked at the grin on the girls face with confusion for a few seconds before she opened her mouth and screamed. Tears forms and she cried, it was a spectacular performance if she did say so herself. She heard the door to Lestrade's office open and she quickly balled her hands into fists and pushed them into her eyes to help redden them quickly.

"What the hell is going on?" Lestrade asked, Clara continued to sob.

"Clara what's wrong?" Sherlock asked kneeling down in front of her, his voice had a slight edge of panic.

"Dimmock hit me into the desk!" Clara sobbed.

Normally, Sherlock would of known that the sound made was a fist, not a person hitting the desk. But unfortunately, Sherlock had a slight weakness when it came to the Irregulars and their safety, no matter what Scotland Yard thought.

"He **WHAT**?!" Sherlock roared standing to face the shocked officer.

"I-I was t-trying to help by organizing the pa-paper work but he just yelled at m-me!"

"What? No!" Dimmock defended, "She's lying, she was messing with my things-"

"So you hit her?" Sherlock growled taking a step forward.

"No! No I-"

"Lying is unbecoming." Sherlock continued, "Because those papers you're holding are in perfect order."

Dimmock paled when he realized he was right. It took Clara a lot of self control not to laugh. She continued to sob instead, crocodile tears were leaking down her cheeks down.

"How **dare **you touch her!" Sherlock continued to yell, he had the attention of the entire floor by now, "I knew you were all idiots but hurting a child is beyond what I thought you possible of!"

"Hey now, Dimmock didn't do anything!" Donovan spoke up, "That little brat is making this all up!"

"So that sound and Dimmock's fist were made up?" Sherlock demanded indicating to how the inspectors hand was still curled into a fist.

Sherlock looked as if he would say more but before he got the chance Clara continued to sob and he turned back to her. Carefully he scooped her up and began assessing her. Clara made sure he couldn't get a good look by burying her head in his shoulder, he'd figure it out to early f he really examined her and found no sign of injury.

"Don't you ever touch any of them ever again." Sherlock sneered, "Or I assure you they will never find the body."

Sherlock glared at Dimmock and Donovan, the look in his eyes was reminiscent of an angry wolf. After a few moments of tense staring Sherlock left, still carrying the little girl who peaked over his shoulder and winked at the two officers who were now being berated by Lestrade.

'That'll show them...'

* * *

**I didn't write it but yes eventually the truth came out and they all realized Dimmock didn't hit her :P **


	36. Chapter 36: Protective II

**Joe - 17**

The Irregulars hated it when John left town. Partly because they missed their uncle but mostly because it meant that Sherlock wouldn't look after himself properly. John had been at a medical conference for a week, he was due back in two days time which was much too long in the kids opinion.

Sherlock had a case.

This was both good and bad.

Good, because he wasn't shooting walls or yelling about how bored he was at the top of his lungs.

Bad, because John wasn't there to be his voice of reason.

He didn't sleep or eat he just worked. Rushing down alleys after members of the organization responsible for a series of thefts that had recently stolen documents from Mycroft Holmes himself.

The group was clever and Sherlock was over the moon, finally something interesting was happening. The Irregulars groaned because now taking care of their father had fallen to them.

"Dad, don't you think you should sleep a little?" Joe suggested, "You've been at it for hours and well, maybe some rest will help you think a bit clearer?"

"Can't rest, thinking." Sherlock replied curtly.

Joe sighed, it was hard to talk to somebody when they were constantly pacing all over the room.

"Oh of course!" Sherlock exclaimed running for the door and grabbing his coat.

"Dad, wait!" Joe yelled.

Of course he didn't and Joe was left alone. Normally he would have simply gone home but then he spied John's hand gun on the table, the hand gun John specifically left so Sherlock could take it on cases to protect himself. The handgun which his father had forgotten.

Again.

He knew Sherlock wouldn't approve of him following, this group had proved to be ruthless when dealing with loose ends and spies. But he also knew that his father needed back up, at the very least he needed the gun. So Joe took off after him, quickly texting Dan and Carlo to follow him just in case.

'Safety in numbers' was one of Sherlock's lessons. Shame he couldn't follow it himself.

The other boys soon caught up with him by using their shortcuts, Sherlock wasn't in sight but luckily his children were brilliant and therefore able to track him, at least now when they were only a minute or so behind.

By the time they finally caught up with their father he was at the museum of all places. Obviously there was some link they weren't seeing but that didn't matter. It seems as if it was all for nothing as Lestrade was there with him as well helping to pile a number of men into police cars. How did Sherlock manage to catch them all in under a minute?

"Well, that was a waste of time." Dan panted, leaning on his knees.

"At least we got some exercise out of it." Carlo giggled.

"We shouldn't giggle it's a crime scene." Joe smirked.

"Guys, is that a police officer?" Dan cut in, pointing toward the smaller man sitting behind a small statue, hidden to Sherlock and the police but perfectly visible tot he boys.

They all tensed as he drew a small gun from his pocket.

"I don't think so." Joe replied quickly, "look out!"

The officers and Sherlock turned to face them with confused glances, they couldn't see the hidden danger. Were Sherlock more aware, that is if he had slept or ate in the past 24 hours, he would of noticed surely.

But he didn't.

Only when the man stood up and fired did they understand. However, Sherlock had bigger problems, namely the bullet that had just gone straight through his torso.

Carlo and Dan moved forwards instantly, at their fathers side and assessing the damage in seconds just as John had taught them to do. Joe felt his blood boil, how dare that man hurt his father! So while he brothers focused on healing, he focused on hurting.

Before the MET could do a thing about it Joe was on the gunman, knocking his weapon from his grasp and hitting his head painfully hard against the concrete. He wasn't sure when in the scuffle he'd drawn out John's Browning but he had and now it was pointed straight between the unnamed mans eyes.

"Joe, for God's sake!" Dan yelled.

"Put the gun down Joe." Lestrade ordered harshly.

The boy narrowed his eyes as the shocked man he was currently sitting on.

"Why should I?" He asked coldly.

"H-hey come on kid." The man stammered, "I wasn't going after you-"

"You hurt my father." Joe growled pushing the barrel against his head, "You _shot _my father"

"Relax, Joe." Dan cut in quietly, "Calm down, the bullet didn't hit any major organs and the ambulance is on it's way. He'll be fine."

"Joseph..."

Joe's gaze flicked over to Sherlock, he was leaning against a squad car while Dan and Carlo staunched the bleeding with his scarf. He was looking at him seriously, but his eyes were begging.

_Don't do this, _they said, _you're not a killer._

The red fog that had descended over his eyes instantly cleared and Joe jumped off the man and stumbled back towards Lestrade who quickly took the gun. By then the Ambulance had arrived and both Carlo and Dan were with Sherlock going to the hospital.

"Come on mate," lestrade muttered, "I'll take you."

Joe was silent all the way to the hospital. He couldn't believe he let his temper get the best of him, he could feel himself reddening with both shame and embarrassment. There was also a mix of apprehension, what would Sherlock say?

Lestrade didn't seem to angry with him, but he didn't say much until they got to the hospital. The others explained that Sherlock was going to make a full recovery, the bullet had gone through his side, he'd lost a lot of blood but he was otherwise fine and resting in a private room.

"He wants to see you." Carlo told Joe quietly, "Alone."

He swallowed nervously.

He was glad for Mycroft's influence, getting Sherlock a private room, he didn't fancy the entire ward hearing his father talk about how disappointed he was.

To his relief the others were right. Sherlock looked fine, aside from being a shade paler than usual of course. If anything he looked bored.

"Ah, Joseph."

Uh oh, full name.

"Hey dad."

"Lost your cool a bit back there didn't you?" Sherlock continued, "you almost killed somebody."

Joe hung his head.

"I'm sorry." he muttered, "But he shot you!"

"Yes, but I am fine. I don't want you behind bars for murder before you're even an adult." Sherlock replied seriously.

John sat down in one of the plastic hospital chairs and looked at his hands.

"Did John ever tell you the story about Ms. Hudson and the American?" Sherlock asked much to the boys surprise.

"No." He replied, curious.

"Years ago, back when I first met Irene an American broke into our flat and attacked Ms. Hudson." Sherlock began, "He hit her and then kept her at gun point, she handle it quite well, no serious injuries and she acted much more feeble than she really is, even managed to trick the men long enough to hide the phone they had come looking for."

"I tricked the all the men except the leader into leaving and then knocked him out and tied him up. Once Ms. Hudson was safely out of the room with John I proceeded to beat him and then throw him out the window onto the bins."

Joe flinched at the idea, his brain was already making a list of possible injuries.

"Everybody looses their cool occasionally." Sherlock summarized, "But it's important to control fury and not let _it _control _you_. I knew exactly how much damage I was causing the man and when to stop so he wouldn't be killed."

"I need to learn to do the same thing?" Joe questioned, the detective nodded.

...

All of the Irregulars showed promise in different areas. Whether it be chemistry, observations, deduction or biology. They each had their calling and Sherlock was proud of them. However he always had an eye on Joe.

He was so much like himself at that age is was frightening, while he was not quite the intellectual Sherlock was at seventeen he had the personality down pact. Defensive, brash, temperamental, quizzical and curious. And more than anything he had a thirst to prove himself that Sherlock had always carried with him at that age and some time after.

He would go far.

* * *

**PLEASE READ!**

**So I have a friend who is starting a Tumblr blog for fanfiction, she had a bunch of rec lists and does daily reviews on different fanfictions as well as reblogging art, headcanons and gifsets.**

**But she doesn't have many followers :( So I promised I'd do a little advertising for her! Please check ou : / / goddess sherlock recs . tumblr . com **

**If you want your art of fanfiction advertised she is happy to do it, just give her a message!**


	37. Chapter 37: Minecraft

When Sherlock walked into the flat John immediately knew something was up, the detective was agitated to say the least. However before he got the chance to ask what was wrong Sherlock began digging through the junk that covered every inch of 221b in a frenzy.

"Sherlock what-?"

"They locked me out, John!" He growled, "The Irregulars have locked 222 and wont answer the door!"

John put down his paper and reached under the chair, drawing out Sherlock's lock picking set.

Looking for this?" He offered, Sherlock grumbled.

Now that John thought about it, he hadn't laid eyes on any of the Irregulars for a few days now, that in itself was not unusual, it was only the fact that they had missed all their lessons with Sherlock that it was suspicious. Now John was actually feeling worried, why wouldn't they let Sherlock in?

The duo both went next door this time, it took Sherlock a minute to jimmy open the lock, causing many people to stare but the men ignored them. When they opened the door the entire hall was dark.

"Kids?" John called, "Are you here?"

No reply.

The two men glanced at one another and moved up the stairs cautiously toward the main lounge, there was a soft glow peaking out from beneath the door as well as several voices muttering.

Sherlock creaked open the door to reveal a dark room lit only by the soft glow of laptops, the Irregulars looked up completely taken by surprise.

"Where did you get all these computers?" John gaped, all the children had one sitting in their laps.

"We bought them using Mycroft's credit card." Marie yawned, "What are you guys doing here."

"You missed your lessons." Sherlock frowned.

"Wait, what day is it?" Lisa asked blinking fast.

"Tuesday."

"Oh hell, it was monday." Mikey grumbled.

"What have you all been doing?" Sherlock asked snatching up the closest laptop and narrowing his eyes at it. That particular look didn't appear on Sherlock's face too often but John knew it, what ever he was seeing, he didn't understand.

"John, what is...Minecraft?" Sherlock asked slowly.

"It's a game." Joe replied.

"A really, really fun game!" Nina added, "You build stuff and slay zombies and-"

She was off again with nobody listening.

"You have been playing this game for two days?" John gaped as he peered at the screen.

It didn't even look that good, it was just a bunch of squares, very blocky. It looked like a game out of the 90's rather than the high end graphics of today.

"It's so cool!" Halie insisted, "And it just goes on and on! I mean you think you've only been playing a little while and bam! Three hours have passed!"

"This doesn't sound like a very productive game." Sherlock sneered.

"Check it out we made our own server!" Dan spoke up ignoring Sherlock's comment, "You and Uncle John should join!"

They immediately began discussing things that John had no hope of following, spawn points and IP addresses and all other manner of things. Eventually Sherlock walked out in a huff while the children went back to their game, promising to make it to their lessons tomorrow.

Sherlock ranted all night, it was making John's ears bleed metaphorically.

"A game? That's what this is all about? Ridiculous!"

...

John had eventually gone to bed to escape Sherlock yelling and fallen into a fitful sleep. When he woke up the next morning there was no sign of the detective. Assuming he was next door the doctor headed off to the clinic without a worry in his head. When he returned however and Sherlock was still not draped over some form of furniture he became concerned.

"Dammit!"

The voice was coming from Sherlock's room, had he been experimenting there all day?

John pushed open the door to find Sherlock on his bed hunched over his laptop.

Playing Minecraft.

"You okay?" John asked, half concerned half amused.

"I found a vein of diamonds and then Marie shot me with an arrow and took them for herself!" Sherlock growled, "I needed that to complete my set of armor!"

"Right..."

"You can't take on the Ender dragon without a full set of diamond armor, John!"

"If you say so Sherlock." John sighed closing the door and heading back into the kitchen to get himself a much needed cup of tea. As he drunk said beverage he spotted his laptop sitting on the couch. For the next hour he tried to entertain himself without success until finally he picked it up.

"If you can't beat them, join them." He muttered.

After all, how addictive could it be?

* * *

**This is pretty much what happened with me and my friends during out Mid Terms last year XD Minecraft is so addictive!**

**Also can I just say, I wrote the final chapter of this series the other day and it broke my heart! It wont be uploaded for a while yet, I plan on this story having 50 chapters. **

**But still, it's pretty heart breaking to finally end something. **


	38. Chapter 38: The Napoleons

**Lisa - 10**

**Mikey - 12**

The Irregulars liked hanging out at Scotland Yard, they often got to help out on small cases they over heard being discussed and sometimes Myers would let them into the crime labs to play with all sorts of evidence.

It was here one night that Lisa and Mikey took on their very first solo case, completely by accident.

Sherlock was with Lestrade discussing possible cases for the detective to take on while the two children watched and observed as they always did.

"It's not a murder but it is a strange case," Lestrade muttered, "Somebody in London obviously has a very strong hatred of Napoleon because several houses have been burgled the last few nights and nothing has been taken except plaster busts of the man. The busts have been shattered as well and just left there."

"That is barely a four." Sherlock sighed, "I wouldn't waste my time with it."

"Oh, can we look at it?" Lisa asked, "Maybe we could solve it."

Sherlock never let the Irregulars take cases on heir own, it was too dangerous but a case of strangely executed vandalism wouldn't put them in any danger. He passed them the file and waved them off, already turning tot he next possible case.

...

"Well it's not just hating Napoleon." Lisa said after looking through the file, "There are loads of statues and painting of Napoleon in London, it's got to be these busts specifically."

"They were all owned by people with no links." Mikey mused, "They were all made from plaster."

"Junk." Lisa surmised, "So why break them..."

They looked over the file again, ignore the smiles and coos from various people in the station watching them. 'Oh look at them trying to help their daddy aren't they precious!'

"They are all the same!" Lisa snapped her fingers, "Who ever is doing this is looking for a specific bust from the set!"

"But you can't tell which one it is, something must differ in one of them." Mikey grinned, "Meaning somebody hid something inside one of the busts and is now tracking them all down to try and get back whatever it was that they hid!"

"And if they hid it then it must be something that either didn't belong to them, or they were trying to keep away from somebody." Lisa concluded.

"We need to find out where these busts came from!" Mikey grinned.

After running back to Lestrade's office and announcing they were going out into the town Sherlock gave them a quick nod, saying not to wander too far and be back before dark as usual. Easy as pie.

It took them an hour to interview the owners of the smashed busts, all five of them. It would of taken less time if they hadn't had to convince them they were serious and not punk kids playing a joke.

They had gotten them from different stores but the stores all got them from the same manufacturer, exactly one year ago. Gelder and Co. a small company that specialized in many decorative objects and copies of art cheap enough for every day buyers.

Luckily it waste a very long walk because the children's feet were beginning to get sore. The factory itself was unpleasant and filled with plaster dust but they managed to sneak inside and find their way to the moulds before anybody caught them.

"What the hell are you kids doing in here?" A gruff man asked.

"Has there been any crimes committed here?" Lisa asked instead of answered, "Or, has somebody worked here that has a tie to criminals?"

"What? The man screwed up his nose, "I don't know who you are or why you care but this is my factory and what happens in my factory is my business."

"So you are the man who has not installed proper ventilation in your workspace?" Mikey asked with a grin, "Wouldn't it be just awful if the health department found out?"

"Yes it would." Lisa agreed, "It's a shame you can;t give us the information we want, we couldn't possibly remember both the state of your factory and the information we seek."

The man turned red but sighed.

"About a year ago one of my men was arrested for knifing another man, Thomas Mopes, in cold blood after loosing a game of cards in the break room." The man admitted, "He was chased all through the factory before they got him."

"And he's in jail now?" Lisa questioned but the man shook his head.

"He only got a year, he came round here asking about his job with the busts but I turned him away."

"Fair enough." Mikey noted, "Now, if we could just see your delivery documentation we will be out of your hair."

From the main officer Mikey quickly hacked into the police database and discovered that the man in question, Beppo, was arrested on May 12th the previous year and on May 13th six busts were delivered to six different stories across London. Five of them were smashed, leaving one.

"I'm betting the man he knifed had something of value to bet in the card game but when he lost refused to turn it over." Mikey mused, "Beppo took it when he knifed the man but when the police arrived he had to hide it so that it would not be returned to it's owner and the injured party would think it lost."

"It had to be something small, otherwise the plaster would of overflowed it's mould." Lisa wondered, "I cannot guess what it could be."

They found the shop the last bust had been taken to quickly, but spent almost an hour going through old recites until they found the one they were looking for. The bust ad been purchased by Andy Wilkins, a many who owned a music shop not far from there.

However, now the sun was setting and they knew they should be heading home. But the case was just too interesting! So instead of heading back to Baker street they hid behind the garbage cans of the opposite house and watched the music shop.

It took nearly an hour but finally a man appeared and began to shift the window open before clambering inside. Lisa immediately ran to the ay phone near by and dialed in their fathers number.

"Mikey? Lisa? this had better be you!" Sherlock's voice had urgency in it. They had worried him.

"It's me dad." Lisa replied, "I don't have much time to explain but call Lestrade and bring him to Lawrenceveil Avenue in the upper part of London. We're both fine, don't worry. Now we have to go!"

"Lisa-"

She hung up without another word, Mikey was already waiting by the window. Just as expected the man, Beppo, climbed back outside with the bust in hand and dashed it on the ground, shattering it to pieces and Mikey acted.

With one smooth movement he had kicked the man in the back of the knees and climbed over his back and seated himself.

"Don't move or I'll shoot!" He growled poking a stick into Beppo's back. He froze, idiot.

The sound of sirens filled the air and soon Sherlock and the MET were on the scene, their father looked like thunder.

"Where have you been!" he demanded.

"Solving a crime." Lisa grinned as she picked through the smashed remnants of the bust until she found what she was looking for, "I believe that this, is something you may have been searching for Uncle Lestrade."

Pinched between her thumb and fore finger was a black pearl, slightly dusted with plaster but otherwise perfect in shape and colour.

"The black pearl of the Borgias." Lestrade exclaimed, "That was stolen from the museum over a year ago!"

"It was stolen by a man named Thomas Mopes," Lisa explained, "He made the mistake of showing it off while playing cards but he lost and refused to give up the pearl that he'd bet."

"This man," Mikey continued, "Knifed Thomas and took the pearl but then the police arrived and he had no choice but to hide it in the only place available. The plaster busts that were still drying in the factory where they both worked. When he was released from jail a few weeks ago h used his time to track down the six busts to try and find the pearl, there was no way to tell from the outside which one had the pearl within, so he had to smash them."

"Brilliant." Sherlock breathed, "And you figured this all out by yourselves?"

They nodded proudly.

"Fantastic!" Sherlock beamed, ruffling their hair, "You brilliant children you!"

Sherlock had never looked so proud.

It was the best praise they had ever received.

* * *

**My favorite book of all time is my canvas bound, gold leaf copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes. Complete with all 56 short stories and 4 novels with their original illustrations from the stand magazine and silk ribbon book mark. **

**I was re-reading "The Adventure of the Six Napoleons" and decided to write an Irregular version :)**


	39. Chapter 39: Each to Their Own

**Natty - 12**

She was enjoying herself very much, the crime lab had just gotten some brand new equipment and unbeknownst to the MET, Natty was testing it all out. She was just moving on to the new Mass Spec Analyzer when somebody grabbed her and pulled her back. She was met with a boy her age with dark hair and very cold eyes.

"What are you doing messing with this stuff?" He asked.

"I'm not messing with it, I'm using it." Natty argued.

"You shouldn't be." The boy argued.

"Why not?" Natty spat back, she was gearing up for a full on fight when she noticed the book in the boys hand.

_Greatest Unsolved Crimes of the Century_

"Hey, I have that book!" Natty smiled, "It's one of my favorites!"

"Really?" The boy seemed surprised, "Me too! People say it's too morbid for a kid but I think it's fascinating."

"The best is the Black Dahlia Case." Natty continued, "That ones kinda creepy."

"Yeah, especially because they left the body out in the open."

Natty felt herself grinning. Another child like her! Who wasn't another Irregular!

"I'm Natty." She smiled.

"Kenny." Kenny replied shaking her hand.

Kenny, as it turns out, was another officers child who was spending time at the yard while his school was being renovated. He was amazed when Natty told him she didn't attend any form of official schooling. He listened intently to everything she said and then he would take a turn telling her all about what public schooling was actually like. Aside from the painfully dull sounding lessons, the games and other children sounded quite nice.

"I can't believe you've never played Mousetrap!" Kenny gaped, "We play it all the time at school."

"I can't believe you've never played Cluedo!" Natty replied, "The rules don't make much sense but if you ignore the lack of realism it's really fun!"

"Tell you what," Kenny offered, "Tomorrow, I'll bring Mousetrap and you can bring Cluedo and we can decide which is best."

So the next day Natty went out but instead of wandering the city playing games with her brothers and sisters she went to Scotland yard, where she found Kenny in the break room. They set out the games and played for hours, it was wonderful. Usually Natty lost when she played Cluedo with her siblings because they were mostly older but she could beat Kenny easily. However, no matter how hard she tried Kenny would always beat her at Mousetrap. Despite this though, it was great fun.

"You know, I don't really have any friends." Natty sighed after a while, "I mean, I have a lot of brothers and sisters but since we don't go to school and because we are so different...well, we don't get to meet a whole lot of other kids."

"Really? No other kids at all?" Kenny gaped.

"Well, there is this one guy Pavel but we don't see him much since he goes to regular school." Natty admitted, "We don't mind too much but, sometimes I think it would be nice to have a friend."

"You're my friend." Kenny smiled.

"You're my friend too." Natty smiled.

Suddenly there was the sound of voices in the hall and Natty saw her father walk by followed by Anderson, they were yelling at one another again. Oh goody, this was always entertaining!

Kenny didn't seem to think so, but he followed her out anyway.

"If you weren't so thick headed we could of had those results an hour ago!" Sherlock yelled.

"Well if you hadn't taken all the samples for yourself, maybe I would of had more to use!" Anderson argued.

Natty giggled.

"Natty, what are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, "I thought you were with the others in town."

"I was playing with-"

"Kenny, what on earth are you doing with one of the Freak's kids!?" Anderson cut in.

Wait, what?

"Anderson is your father?" Natty gaped.

"The Freak is your father?" Kenny gaped right back.

"He's not a freak!" Natty yelled.

"Is too! My father says so!"

"Your fathers an idiot!"

"Take that back!"

"No!"

The next moment they were on the floor grappling with one another, tugging at hair and biting.

"Get your psychotic child off my son!" Anderson yelled.

"You get your dullard boy off my daughter!" Sherlock demanded.

"For Gods sake!"

Suddenly very strong arms were pulling the two children apart and holding them by the scruff of their shirts.

"These two are just children." John grumbled, "You could at least set them a good example!"

"I never would of become friends with you if I'd known you were a snobby Holmes." Kenny growled.

"And I'd never of befriended you if I'd known you were an idiot Anderson!" Natty yelled.

"Natty, Kenny, both of you behave!" John scolded, "Kenny go with your dad, Natty come on we're going home."

"But I want to hear about dad's new case!" Natty whinged.

John just dragged her outside and back to Baker street.

...

She didn't go to Scotland Yard the next day, or the day after. In fact, it was a week before she went back, her father had used her as a spy in his latest forgery case and bought her with him to report back to Lestrade. After a while she got bored of all the documentation and reports and found herself in the crime labs where Kenny was sitting, reading his book.

"What are you doing back here?" He asked, but his tone didn't sound harsh.

"I was just helping solve a case." She replied smugly.

"Snob." He muttered.

"Dullard." She hissed.

They glared for a few seconds before both sighed.

"You know, you're not really a snob." Kenny mumbled, "I only said that cause my dad told me all Holmes's were trouble."

"My dad told me to stay away from you in case you lower my IQ." Natty admitted.

"Just cause our dads don't like each other doesn't mean we can't." Kenny smiled.

"Truce?" Natty held out her hand.

"Truce." Kenny smiled and shook it with his own, "Now do you wanna read with me? I just reached the chapter about the Zodiac Killer!"


	40. Chapter 40: Flash Back

**Cedric - 4**

* * *

Sherlock always got over excited when a good case came up after a long dry spell. It had been almost a month since anything bigger than a five had appeared and John was seriously beginning to worry for Ms. Hudson's walls. Every day he expected to come home and find them riddled with bullets. In order to try and distract him Mira had asked, demanded, that Sherlock watch Cedric that afternoon.

As much as Sherlock loved the children he simply wasn't interesting in following the child around a park while he chased birds. So when he got a text from Dimmock saying there had been a strange suicide on the other side of town he'd grabbed Cedric and they were both on their way there before the boy could blink.

By the time John arrived after receiving Sherlock's text the detective was already investigating a body laying on the pavement by an old building. John liked this area of London, the buildings were slightly older and had a certain charm modern buildings didn't.

The one the body was in front of was only three stories high but it was just as breath taking as any sky scraper, with carved arches over the windows and flag poles and gargoyles decorating the sides of the roof.

He turned his attention back to Sherlock, who was now explaining how the man managed to fall from a building with no blood spilling when John noticed something.

"Sherlock?"

"Don't interrupt John-"

"No, Sherlock! Where's Cedric? You said he was with you."

Silence.

"You _have_ been watching him right?" John continued.

"Well he got out of the taxi with me." Sherlock replied.

Oh great.

"You bought your kid to a suicide?" Dimmock gaped.

"Murder." Sherlock corrected, "And yes, it wouldn't bother him."

"Maybe we can have this conversation after we find him?" John suggested glancing around, he was only little he couldn't of gotten far.

"Hey daddy! Look at me!" Came a call from above.

John watched as Sherlock's gaze followed the voice and came to rest on Cedric who was sitting on the stone gargoyle at the very top of the roof.

The gargoyle that was leaning over the edge of the building.

John had never seen Sherlock pale so fast.

"Get down from there now!" He yelled.

"Why?" Cedric asked, looking genuinely confused and then to Sherlock's great shock stood up on the gargoyles head.

One wrong move and he'd go plummeting three stories to the ground.

"Please, just get down from there before you slip and fall!" Sherlock yelled, his voice was slightly more panicky now.

"Alrighty, but I have great bala-ARGH!"

In that moment John was sure Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. Because just like they'd feared he would, Cedric slipped and went tumbling over the side of the stone statue. Luckily he was able to grab one of the metal flag poles jutting out from the buildings edge. That didn't change the fact that he was one small move away from falling onto the pavement below him.

John could practically see Cedric's face morphing into Sam's and back again, the tall building, the fall...

"Daddy! Help me!"

"Christ, we need to get a ladder or a trampoline in case he falls!" Dimmock exclaimed grabbing out his mobile.

"No time." John replied hastily, "He's only little he can't hold on for long."

"Cedric, hold on!" Sherlock bellowed as he headed for the building, "We're coming to get you."

The two men practically flew up the spiraling stair cases which seemed to last forever, surely three floors didn't need so many stairs! The good doctor could hear more footsteps as well as Dimmock and his men followed. Sherlock almost broke the door off it's hinges bursting out onto the roof and straight to the side where Cedric was still hanging, slipping might of been the better word.

"T-The metal is slippery!" Cedric cried trying to get a proper grip.

The flag pole was about half an arms length from the edge of the building where Sherlock was, without asking John grabbed his left arm while the detective leaned over with his right.

"Cedric," He said shakily, "I need you to let go with one hand and grab mine okay?"

"I can't!" He sobbed, "I can't I'll fall!"

"No, you wont!" Sherlock replied vehemently, "I won't let you, now get a good grip and reach for me."

Slowly, Cedric reached a trembling hand to Sherlock's which was immediately snatched up tightly. John could feel Sherlock shaking as he helped the man keep his balance.

"Okay, now let go of the pole and I'll pull you up." Sherlock continued.

"It's too far down..." Cedric trembled, "I'm gonna fall, daddy."

"I've got you, relax." Sherlock promised, "I wont drop you I swear."

Cedric bit his lip and nervously shifted his fist around the pole until finally he let go. The hand quickly fisted into Sherlock's sleeve and the weight was so sudden Sherlock almost fell off the side himself. Most likely would have if John hadn't been there to steady him.

After a few seconds of peril Sherlock finally steadied himself and yanked the small boy upwards. So fast, in fact, that they all fell backwards onto the roof. Cedric immediately curled up into the smallest shape possible in Sherlock's lap while the man hugged him to his chest.

The little boy immediately began to cry while Sherlock just breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"I-I was gonna fall and end u-up smashed on the g-ground!" He wailed.

"It's alright, it's okay now." Sherlock hushed holding the boy, "Daddy's here, daddy's got you..."

Leaving the two on the floor John brushed himself off and came face to face with a very confused looking Dimmock.

"Um, maybe Sherlock can help you tomorrow, I think we should take Cedric home now." John tried.

"Agreed." Came Sherlock reply, appearing at John's side with Cedric curled up in his arms.

His voice was back to it's usual detached self now, rather than the panicky one from before. They went home and eventually Cedric calmed down, though John was fully expecting him to suffer from nightmares. So he wasn't surprised the next morning when he bought Sherlock some toast the next morning, to find the detective sitting at his desk and Cedric curled up in his bed.

* * *

**So sorry this took so long! I've been having a writers block on this story!**

**I'm trying to think of some really cool chapters but coming up with zilch, blegh. Since the lullaby story was pretty good I was hoping to think of a story where Sherlock can sing "Safe and Sound" to the kids but so far it's pretty lame. **


	41. The End

**2066**

Nobody expected Sherlock Holmes to live to the age of ninety, he was the sort of person to die young, especially in his line of work. It had been Mrs. Hudson who went first of course, natural courses, that was some thirty years ago now. Mycroft and Lestrade had been after but Sherlock and John lived on. At least they had.

Old age finally got the best of John a few months back. It had nearly destroyed Sherlock of course but the Irregulars were there for him. It was odd really, even now when they were adults themselves Sherlock still saw them as children. Some of them even had children of their own now.

The Irregulars gathered at Baker Street once a week out of habit, they talked, conducted experience, looked over old cases, anything they wanted to really. Sometimes they would read from John's blog, Sherlock enjoyed hearing the old cases, especially the first one. Even more so now that John was gone.

The children knew Sherlock was that age now, where life was sort of a choice, if he wanted to he could go to sleep and simply fade away but he didn't. He hung on, nobody could ever say that Sherlock Holmes wasn't a stubborn man.

Sherlock kept going for them, his time had finished long ago. Sherlock Holmes was no longer the famous detective in the funny hat, he was a memory, a story. He hadn't taken a case in years.

Things were quiet this visit. It was just Sherlock and the original Irregulars, they sat on the floor by the couch where Sherlock was stretched out, Marie was reading him A Study in Pink, Sherlock was smiling at the memory.

All the kids were thinking the same thing, how hard it would be without Sherlock around anymore but they were no longer children and Sherlock was tired.

"You can rest if you like, dad." Marie said finally, the words were innocent but everybody, including Sherlock, knew she didn't just mean sleeping.

"And leave you all here without somebody to point out your mistakes when you deduce?" Sherlock scoffed, but he smiled when he said it.

"We'll be alright on our own." Joe whispered, "I mean, we have to do things by ourselves some time don't we?"

"Besides, John is probably limping around in the next life without you." Lisa added.

That made Sherlock smile sadly at the thought of John.

"Alright," He muttered, "I'm going to sleep for a bit."

The former detective let his eyes slip closed.

"Alright, we'll be here when you wake up." Carlo said quietly even though they all knew he wouldn't be.

"Goodnight, daddy." Clara whispered and kissed his forehead, "Sleep well."

* * *

**You can let go now, daddy, you can let go.**

**Your little ones are ready to do this on their own.**

**It's gonna be a little bit scary but I want you to know,**

**I'll be okay now, daddy, you can let go.**

**You can let go...**

* * *

They buried him next to John of course. The whole affair was bitter sweet, they had already buried their father once before years ago, but this time he really was gone. Well, in a way he was still with them.

Joe stayed at the grave the longest, Alice his wife, was waiting for him by the gate with their two children he could see them. He smiled sadly as he read the grave stone one last time.

_Sherlock Holmes_

_A Great Man Who Became a Good one._

Times had changed, the time of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes had ended and the time of the Irregulars had come. They were now the consulting detective's of London, they taught their kids just as Sherlock had taught them. The only difference being that their children did not appear from the streets as they had.

"Daddy?" His little girl looked at him unsurely as he scooped her up at the gate.

"Don't worry Joanna, everything's fine." He smiled.

"Sherlock's run off again." Alice sighed, "He's looking at the ivy growing on the side of some building over the road."

Joe chuckled.

"He takes after his name sake, that boy."

There would always be a Sherlock Holmes in London. Just as it should be.

* * *

**I couldn't think of any more good chapters so I figured it was best to end things before the story got old. **

**Thanks to all who have enjoyed the trilogy! I don't know what I will write next but I hope you all tune in!**

**-Ulura**


End file.
